WEST  WIND  DRIFT 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT 


BY 
GEORGE  BARR  McCUTCHEON 

Author  of  "Brewster's  Millions,"  "The  Prince 
of  Graustark,"  "Sherry,"  etc. 


NEW  YORK 

DODD,  MEAD  AND  COMPANY 
1920 


•   .'       COPYRIGHT.  5910, 

BT  DOI)L>;  MEAD  AND  COMPANY,  INC. 


VAIL-BALLOU    COMPANY 

•INflHAMTON  AND  NEW  YORK 


V 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT 


ON  a  bright,  still  morning  in  October  the 
Doraine  sailed  from  a  South  American  .port 
and  turned  her  glistening  nose  to  the  north 
east.  All  told,  there  were  some  seven  hundred  and  fifty 
souls  on  board;  and  there  were  stores  that  filled  her 
holds  from  end  to  end, —  grain,  foodstuffs,  metals, 
chemicals,  rubber  and  certain  sinister  things  of  war. 
Her  passenger  list  contained  the  names  of  men  who 
had  achieved  distinction  in  world  affairs, —  in  finance, 
in  business,  in  diplomacy,  in  war,  besides  that  less  subtle 
pursuit,  adventure:  men  from  both  hemispheres,  from 
all  continents.  It  was  a  cosmopolitan  company  that 
sailed  out  to  sea  that  placid  day,  bound  for  a  port  six 
thousand  miles  away. 

Her  departure,  heavy-laden,  from  this  South  Ameri 
can  port  was  properly  recorded  in  the  then  secret  an 
nals  of  a  great  nation ;  the  world  at  large,  however,  was 
none  the  wiser.  For  those  were  the  days  when  sly 
undersea  monsters  of  German  descent  were  prowling 
about  the  oceans,  taking  toll  of  humanity  and  breed 
ing  the  curse  that  was  to  abide  with  their  progenitors 
forever. 

Down  through  the  estuary  and  into  the  spreading 
bay  slid  the  big  steamer ;  abreast  the  curving  coast-line 
she  drove  her  way  for  leagues  and  leagues,  and  then 
swept  boldly  into  the_vast  Atlantic  desert. 


2  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

Four  hundred  years  ago  and  more,  Amerigo  Vespucci 
had  -sailed  this  unknown  southern  sea  in  his  doughty 
caravel;  he  had  wallowed  and  rocked  for  months  over 
a  course  ::bac  the  Dorame  was  asked  to  cover  in  the 
wink  of  an  eye  by  comparison.  Up  from  the  south  he 
had  come  in  an  age  when  the  seas  he  sailed  were  no  less 
strange  than  the  land  he  touched  from  time  to  time; 
the  blue  waste  of  sky  and  sea  as  boundless  then  as 
now;  the  west  wind  drift  as  sure  and  unfailing;  the 
waves  as  savage  or  as  mild;  the  star  by  which  he  laid 
his  course  as  far  away  and  immutable, —  but  he  came 
in  1501  and  his  ship  was  alone  in  the  trackless  ocean. 

The  mighty  Doraine  was  not  alone ;  she  sailed  a  sea 
whose  every  foot  was  charted,  whose  every  depth  was 
sounded.  She  sailed  in  an  age  of  Titans,  while  the 
caravel  was  a  frolicksome  pygmy,  dancing  to  the  music 
of  a  thousand  winds,  buffeted  today,  becalmed  tomor 
row,  but  always  a  snail  on  the  face  of  the  waters. 
Four  hundred  years  ago  Vespucci  and  his  men  were 
lost  in  the  wilderness  of  waves.  Out  of  touch  with 
the  world  were  they  for  months, —  aye,  even  years, — 
and  no  man  knew  whither  they  sailed  nor  whence  they 
came,  for  those  were  the  days  when  the  seven  seas  kept 
their  secrets  better  than  they  keep  them  now. 

Into  the  path  traversed  by  the  lowly  caravel  steamed 
the  towering  Doraine,  pointing  her  gleaming  nose  to  the 
north  and  east. 

She  was  never  seen  again. 

Out  from  the  lairs  of  the  great  ^American  navy  sped 
the  swiftest  hounds  of  the  ocean.  They  swept  the  face 
of  the  waters  with  a  thousand  sleepless  eyes ;  they  called 
with  the  strange,  mysterious  voice  that  carries  a  thou 
sand  miles;  they  raked  the  sea  as  with  a  fine-tooth 
( oinb ;  they  searched  the  coast  of  a  continent ;  they 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  3 

penetrated  its  rivers,  circled  its  islands,  scanned  its 
rocks  and  reefs, —  and  asked  a  single  question  that  had 
but  one  reply  from  every  ship  that  sailed  the  southern 
sea. 

For  months  ships  of  all  nations  searched  for  the  miss 
ing  steamer.  Not  so  much  as  the  smallest  piece  of 
wreckage  rewarded  the  ceaseless  quest.  The  great 
vessel,  with  all  its  precious  cargo,  had  slipped  into  its 
niche  among  the  profoundest  mysteries  of  the  sea. 
Came  the  day,  therefore,  when  the  Secretary  of  the 
Navy  wrote  down  against  her  name  the  ugly  sentence: 
"  Lost  with  all  on  board." 

Maritime  courts  issued  their  decrees;  legatees  par 
celled  estates,  great  and  small;  insurance  companies 
paid  in  hard  cash  for  the  lives  that  were  lost,  and 
went  blandly  about  their  business ;  more  than  one  widow 
reconsidered  her  thoughts  of  self-denial ;  and  ships 
again  sailed  the  course  of  Amerigo  Vespucci  without 
a  thought  of  the  Doraine. 

For  months  the  newspapers  in  many  lands  speculated 
on  the  fate  of  the  missing  liner.  That  a  great  ship 
could  disappear  from  the  face  of  the  waters  in  these 
supreme  days  of  navigation  without  leaving  so  much  as 
a  trace  behind  was  inconceivable.  At  first  there  were 
tales  of  the  dastardly  U-boats ;  then  came  the  sinister 
reports  of  treachery  on  board  resulting  in  the  ship 
being  taken  over  by  German  plotters,  with  the  predic 
tion  that  she  would  emerge  from  oblivion  as  a  well-armed 
"raider"  cruising  in  the  North  Atlantic ;  then  the  gen 
erally  accepted  theory  that  she  had  been  swiftly,  sud 
denly  rent  asunder  by  a  mighty  explosion  in  her  hold. 
All  opinions,  all  theories,  all  conjectures,  however,  re 
volved  about  a  single  fear ;  —  that  she  was  the  victim 
of  a  German  plot.  But  in  the  course  of  events  there 


4  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

came  a  day  when  the  German  Navy,  ever  boastful  of 
its  ignoble  deeds,  issued  the  positive  and  no  doubt  sin 
cere  declaration  that  it  had  no  record  of  the  sinking  of 
the  Doraine.  The  fate  of  the  ship  was  as  much  of  a 
mystery  to  the  German  admiralty  as  it  was  to  the  rest 
of  the  puzzled  world. 

And  so  it  was  that  the  Doraine,  laden  with  nearly  a 
thousand  souls,  sailed  out  into  the  broad  Atlantic  and 
was  never  heard  from  again. 


CHAPTER  I 

THE  Captain  of  the  liner  was  an  old  man.  He 
had  sailed  the  seas  for  two-score  years,  at 
least  half  of  them  as  master.  At  the  outbreak 
of  the  Great  War  he  was  given  command  of  the  Doraine, 
relieving  a  younger  man  for  more  drastic  duty  in  the 
North  Sea.  He  was  an  Englishman,  and  his  name, 
Weatherby  Trigger,  may  be  quite  readily  located  on 
the  list  of  retired  naval  officers  in  the  British  Admiralty 
offices  if  one  cares  to  go  to  the  trouble  to  look  it  up. 

After  two  years  the  Doraine,  with  certain  other  ves 
sels  involved  in  a  well-known  and  somewhat  thoroughly 
debated  transaction,  became  to  all  intents  and  pur 
poses  the  property  of  the  United  States  of  America; 
she  flew  the  American  flag,  carried  an  American  gun 
crew  and  American  papers,  and,  with  some  difficulty, 
an  English  master.  The  Captain  was  making  his  last 
voyage  as  master  of  the  ship.  An  American  captain 
was  to  succeed  him  as  soon  as  the  Doraine  reached  its 
destination  in  the  United  States.  Captain  Trigger,  a 
little  past  seventy,  had  sailed  for  nearly  two  years 
under  the  Amercan  flag  at  a  time  when  all  Englishmen 
were  looking  askance  at  it  and  wondering  if  it  was 
ever  to  take  its  proper  place  among  the  righteous  ban 
ners  of  the  world.  It  had  taken  its  place  among  them, 
and  the  "  old  man  "  was  happy. 

His  crew  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  was  what  might  be 
aptly  described  as  international.  The  few  Englishmen 
he  had  on  board  were  noticeably  unfit  for  active  duty 

in  the  war  zone.     There  was   a   small   contingent  of 

5 


6  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

Americans,  a  great  many  Portuguese,  some  Spaniarc 
Norwegians,  and  a  more  or  less  polyglot  remaind 
without  national  classification. 

His  First  Officer  was  a  Scotch-American,  the  Secoi 
an  Irish- American,  the  Chief  Engineer  a  plain  unh 
phenated  American  from  Baltimore,  Maryland.  T 
purser,  Mr.  Codge,  was  still  an  Englishman,  althou^ 
he  had  lived  in  the  United  States  since  he  was  two  yea 
old, —  a  matter  of  forty-seven  years  and  three  montl 
if  we  are  to  believe  Mr.  Codge,  who  seemed  rather  proi 
of  the  fact  that  his  father  had  neglected  to  forswe 
allegiance  to  Queen  Victoria,  leaving  it  to  his  son 
follow  his  example  in  the  case  of  King  Edward  t 
Seventh  and  of  King  George  the  Fifth. 

There  were  eighty-one  first-cabin  passengers,  o 
hundred  and  nineteen  in  the  second  cabin, —  for  t" 
two  had  not  been  consolidated  on  the  Doraine  as  w 
the  case  with  the  harried  trans-Atlantic  liners, —  ai 
approximately  three  hundred  and  fifty  in  the  steerag 
The  first  and  second  cabin  lists  represented  many  race 
South  Americans  predominating. 

The  great  republics  in  the  lower  half  of  the  hen 
sphere  were  cut  off  almost  entirely  from  the  Old  Wor 
so  far  as  general  travel  was  concerned.  The  peop 
of  Argentine,  Brazil  and  Chili  turned  their  eyes  fro 
the  east  and  looked  to  the  north,  where  lay  the  hither 
ignored  and  sometime  hated  continent  whose  midd 
usurped  the  word  American.  A  sea  voyage  in  the 
parlous  days  meant  but  one  thing  to  the  people  < 
South  America :  a  visit  to  an  unsentimental  land  who 
traditions,  if  any  were  cherished  at  all,  went  back  i 
farther  than  yesterday  and  were  to  be  succeeded  I 
fresh  ones  tomorrow.  At  least,  such  was  the  belief  < 
the  Latin  who  still  dozed  superciliously  in  the  glory 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  [7 

his  long-dead  ancestors.  Not  having  Paris,  or  London, 
or  Madrid,  or  Rome  as  the  Mecca  of  his  dreams,  his 
pilgrimage  now  carried  him  to  the  infidel  realities  of  the 
North, —  to  Washington,  New  York,  New  Orleans, — 
Newport  and  Atlantic  City!  He  had  the  money  for 
travel,  so  why  stay  at  home?  He  had  the  money  to 
waste,  so  why  not  dissipate?  He  had  the  thirst  for 
sin,  so  why  famish? 

There  were  lovely  women  on  board,  and  children 
with  and  without  the  golden  spoon;  there  were  men 
whose  names  were  known  on  both  sides  of  the  Atlantic 
and  whose  reputations  for  integrity,  sagacity,  intellect, 
and, —  it  must  be  confessed, —  corruptness,  (with  the 
author's  apology  for  the  inclusion)  ;  doughty  but  dog 
matic  university  men  who  had  penetrated  the  wilder 
nesses  as  naturalists,  entomologists,  mineralogists,  arch 
aeologists,  explorers;  sportsmen  who  had  forsaken  the 
lion,  rhinoceros,  hartebeest  and  elephant  of  Africa  for 
the  jaguar,  cougar,  armadillo  and  anteater  of  South 
America ;  soldiers  of  fortune  whose  gods  had  lured  them 
into  the  comparative  safety  of  South  American  revolu 
tions;  miners,  stock  buyers  and  raisers,  profiteersmen, 
diplomats,  priests,  preachers,  gamblers,  smugglers  and 
thieves ;  others  who  had  gone  out  for  the  Allies  to  buy 
horses,  beeves,  grain,  metal,  chemicals,  manganese  and 
men ;  financiers,  merchants,  lawyers,  writers,  musicians, 
doctors,  dentists,  architects ;  gentiles  and  Jews,  Prot 
estants  and  Catholics,  skeptics  and  infidels, —  in  short, 
good  men,  bad  men,  beggar  men,  thieves. 

The  world  will  readily  recall  such  names  and  person 
alities  as  these :  Abel  T.  Landover,  the  great  New  York 
banker ;  Peter  Snipe,  the  novelist ;  Solomon  Nicklestick, 
the  junior  member  in  the  firm  of  Winkelwein  &  Nickle 
stick,  importers  of  hides,  etc.,  Ninth  Avenue,  New 


8  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

York;  Moses  Block,  importer  of  rubber;  James  Jan 
uary  Jones,  of  San  Francisco,  promoter  and  financier; 
Randolph  Fitts,  of  Boston,  the  well-known  architect; 
Percy  Knapendyke,  the  celebrated  naturalist;  Michael 
O'Malley  Malone,  of  the  law  firm  of  Eads,  Blixton, 
Solomon,  Carlson,  Vecchiavalli,  Revitsky,  Perkins  & 
Malone,  New  York;  William  Spinney,  of  the  Chicago 
Police  force,  (and  his  prisoner,  "  Soapy  "  Shay,  dia 
mond  thief)  ;  Denby  Flattner,  the  taxidermist;  Morris 
Shine,  the  motion  picture  magnate;  Madame  Careni- 
Amori,  soprano  from  the  Royal  Opera,  Rome;  Signoi 
Joseppi,  the  new  tenor,  described  as  the  logical  suc 
cessor  to  the  great  Caruso ;  Madame  Obosky  and  three 
lesser  figures  in  the  Russian  Ballet,  who  were  coming 
to  the  United  States  to  head  a  long-heralded  tour,  "  by 
special  arrangement  with  the  Czar  " ;  Buck  Chizler,  the 
famous  jockey, —  and  so  on. 

These  were  the  names  most  conspicuously  displayed 
by  the  newspapers  during  the  anxious,  watchful  days 
and  weeks  that  succeeded  the  sailing  of  the  Doraine 
from  the  port  in  the  Tropic  of  Capricorn. 

Dozens  of  cities  in  the  United  States  were  represented 
by  one  or  more  persons  on  board  the  Doraine,  travelled 
of  both  sexes  who,  being  denied  the  privilege  of  a  cuf- 
ternary  dash  to  Europe  for  the  annual  holiday,  resolved 
not  to  be  deprived  of  their  right  to  wander,  nor  the 
right  to  return  when  they  felt  inclined.  Whilom,  d& 
fiant  rovers  in  search  of  change,  they  scoffed  at  condi 
tions  and  went  their  way  regardless  of  the  peril  that 
stalked  the  seas.  In  the  main  they  were  moncj^ 
spending,  time-dragging  charges  against  the  resourc^ 
of  a  harassed,  bewildered  government,  claiming 
tection  in  return  for  arrogance. 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  9 

Far  to  the  south,  off  the  Falkland  Islands,  at  the 
ottom  of  the  sea,  lay  the  battered  hulls  of  what  were 

ipposed  to  be  the  last  of  the  German  fighting-ships  in 
outh  Atlantic  waters.  Report  had  it,  however,  that 
everal  well-armed  cruisers  had  either  escaped  the  hurri- 
ane  of  shells  from  the  British  warships,  or  had  been 
etached  from  the  squadron  before  the  encounter  took 
lace.  I:n  any  event,  no  vessel  left  a  South  American 
or-t  without  maintaining  a  sharp  lookout  for  prowling 

vivDPs  of  the  vanquished  fleet,  and  no  passenger 
ent  aboard  who  did  not  experience  the  thrill  of  a 
azardous  undertaking.  The  ever-present  and  ever- 
eady  individual  with  official  information  from  sources 
hat  could  not  be  questioned,  travelled  with  remarkable 
'gularity  on  each  and  every  craft  that  ventured  out 
pon  the  Hun-infested  waters.  In  the  smoke-room  the 
ivariable  word  went  round  that  raiders  were  sinking 

•erything  in  sight.  Every  ship  that  sailed  had  on 
oard  at  least  one  individual  who  claimed  to  have  been 
based  on  a  former  voyage  by  a  blockade-breaker, — 
according  fro  the  most  reliable  reports,  the  Germans 
ere  slipping  warships  through  the  vaunted  British  net 
ith  the  most  astounding  ease  and  frequency,) —  and 
icre  was  no  one  with  the  hardihood  or  desire  to  ques- 
on  his  veracity;  indeed,  it  was  something  of  a  joy  to 
elieve  him,  for  was  he  not  a  living  and  potential  docu- 
lent  to  prove  that  the  merchant  marine  could  outwit, 
utrace  and  outshoot  the  German  pirates  ? 

The  Doraine  was  barely  twenty-four  hours  out  from 
ort  and  ploughing  along  steadily  through  a  choppy 
?a  when  Mr.  Mott,  the  First  Officer,  reported  to  Cap- 
ain  Trigger  that  a  stowaway  had  been  found  on  board. 

"German?"  inquired  Captain  Trigger  tersely. 


10  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

"  No,  sir.  At  least,  he  doesn't  look  it  and,  what's 
more,  he  doesn't  act  it.  Claims  to  be  American  born 
and  bred." 

"  That's  what  a  great  many  Germans  are  claiming 
these  days,  Mr.  Mott.  We  can't  take  any  chances, 
you  know.  Where  was  he  found?" 

Mr.  Mott  cleared  his  throat.  "  Ahem !  He  wasn't 
what  you  might  call  found,  sir.  As  a  matter  of  fact  he 
applied  in  person  to  the  Chief  Engineer  about  half  an 
hour  ago  and  asked  for  a  job.  He  said  he  was  per 
fectly  willing  to  work  out  his  passage  home.  Mr.  Gray 
had  him  conducted  to  me,  sir, —  rather  sharply  guarded, 
of  course, —  and  he  — " 

"Fetch  him  here  at  once,  Mr.  Mott,"  commanded 
Captain  Trigger.  "I'll  hear  what  he  has  to  s*>y  first 
hand." 

"  Very  well,  sir."  Mr.  Mott  started  away,  hesitated, 
rubbed  his  chin  dubiously,  and  then  came  back.  "  He's 
having  a  bit  of  breakfast,  sir,  and  has  asked  for  the 
loan  of  Mr.  Codge's  razors  — " 

"What?"  roared  the  captain. 

"  I  informed  him  he  would  have  to  appear  before 
you  at  once,  sir,  and  he  said  he  was  quite  willing  to  do 
so,  but  would  it  be  possible  for  him  to  tidy  up  a  bit 
beforehand.  I  am  obliged  to  confess,  sir,  that  I  have 
never  encountered  a  more  interesting  stowaway  in  all 
my  career,  which  leads  me  to  confess  still  further  that 
I  gave  orders  to  feed  him, —  he  hasn't  had  a  mouthful 
to  eat  since  we  left  port,  owing  to  the  fact,  he  says,  that 
his  luggage  shifted  the  first  day  out  and  try  as  he 
would  he  couldn't  locate  it  without  a  match,  or  some 
thing  to  that  effect, —  he  rather  stumped  me,  sir,  with 
the  graceful  way  he  lies, —  and  then  Mr.  Codge  agreed 
to  let  him  take  one  of  his  razors,  and  when  I  left  him 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  11 

below,  sir,  it  seemed  quite  certain  that  Mr.  Gray  was 
on  the  point  of  lending  him  a  shirt  and  a  change  of 
underwear.  I — " 

"Good  God,  sir!"  gasped  Captain  Trigger,  with 
something  more  than  emotion  in  his  voice.  "  What  is 
this  you  are  telling  me?" 

"  He  seems  a  most  likeable  chap,"  explained  Mr. 
Mott  lamely.  "  Quite  a  courteous  fellow,  too,  sir.  I 
forgot  to  mention  that  he  sent  his  compliments  to  you 
and  asks  for  an  interview  at  your  earliest  conven — " 

"  Asked  for  an  interview?  Drag  him  here  at  once  — 
by  the  heels,  if  necessary.  Tell  him  I  shan't  keep  him 
waiting  an  instant,"  said  the  captain  ironically. 

Mr.  Mott  still  hesitated.  "In  the  event,  sir,  that 
he  is  in  the  midst  of  shaving  — " 

"  I  don't  care  a  hang  what  he's  in  the  midst  of," 
exclaimed  Captain  Trigger.  "Even  in  the  midst  of 
changing  shirts.  Present  my  compliments  to  him,  Mr. 
Mott,  and  say  that  he  needn't  dress  up  on  my  account. 
I  am  an  old-fashioned  sailor-man.  It  is  nothing  new 
to  me  to  see  men  who  haven't  shaved  in  a  fortnight, 
and  others  who  never  change  shirts." 

"  Very  well,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Mott,  and  departed. 

Presently  he  reappeared  with  the  stowaway  in  charge. 

Captain  Trigger  beheld  a  well-set-up  young  man  of 
medium  height,  with  freshly  shaven  chin  and  jaws,  care 
fully  brushed  hair,  spotless  white  shirt  and  collar,  and, 
—  revealed  in  a  quick  glance, —  recently  scrubbed 
hands.  His  brown  Norfolk  jacket  was  open,  and  he 
carried  a  brand  new,  though  somewhat  shapeless  pan- 
ama  hat  in  his  hand.  Evidently  he  had  ceased  fanning 
himself  with  it  at  the  moment  of  entering  the  captain's 
presence.  The  keen,  good-looking  face  was  warm  and 
moist  as  the  result  of  a  most  violent  soaping.  He  wore 


12  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

corduroy  riding-breeches,  cavalry  boots  that  betiyed 
their  age  in  spite  of  a  late  polishing  at  the  hands  f  an 
energetic  and  carefully  directed  bootblack,  and  a  road 
leather  belt  from  which  only  half  an  eye  was  reuired 
to  see  that  a  holster  had  been  detached  with  a  b  om- 
ing  regard  for  neatness.  His  hair  was  thick  anc.;un- 
bleached;  his  eyes,  dark  and  unafraid,  met  the  :ern 
gaze  of  the  captain  with  directness  and  respect  his 
lips  and  chin  were  firm  in  repose,  but  they  might  csilj 
be  the  opposite  if  relaxed;  his  skin  was  so  tannecand 
wind-bitten  that  the  whites  of  his  eyes  were  starthgly 
defined  and  vivid.  He  was  not  a  tall  man, —  ineed, 
one  would  have  been  justified  in  suspecting  him  of  •  ing 
taller  than  he  really  was  because  of  the  more  01  less, 
deceiving  erectness  with  which  he  carried  himself.  All 
a  matter  of  fact,  he  was  not  more  than  five  feet  tt  or| 
ten  and  a  half. 

Captain  Trigger  eyed  him  narrowly  for  a  momat.  j 

"  What  is  your  name  ?" 

"  A.  A.  Percival,  sir." 

"  Your  full  name,  young  man.     No  initials." 

The  stowaway  seemed  to  add  an  inch  to  his  ht^ht 
before  replying. 

"  Algernon  Adonis  Percival,  sir,"  he  said,  a  very  ear! 
note  of  defiance  in  his  voice. 

The  Captain  looked  at  the  First  Officer,  and  ~h 
First  Officer,  after  a  brief  stare  at  the  speaker,  loced 
at  the  Captain. 

"  It's  his  right  name,  you  can  bet,  sir,"  said  Ir.i 
Mott,  with  conviction.  "  Nobody  would  volunteilji 
give  himself  a  name  like  that." 

"  You  never  can  tell  about  these  Americans,  IrJJ! 
Mott,"  said  the  Captain  warily.  "  They've  got  waif 
they  call  a  keen  sense  of  humour,  you  know." 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  IS 

Ir.  Percival  smiled.     His  teeth  were  very  white  and 
, 

I  am  a  first  and  only  child,"  he  explained.  "That 
t  to  account  for  it,  sir,"  he  went  on,  a  trifle  defen- 

r- 

iptain  Trigger  did  not  smile.     Mr.  Mott,  however, 

d  distinctly  sympathetic. 

You  say  you  are  an  American, —  a  citizen  of  the 
rited  States  ?  "  demanded  the  former. 

Yes,  sir.     My  home  is  in  Baltimore." 

Baltimore?"  repeated  Mr.  Mott  quickly.  "  That's 
hre  Mr.  Gray  hails  from,  sir,"  he  added,  as  a  sort  of 
p  ogy  to  the  Captain  for  the  exclamation. 

he  Captain's  gaze  settled  on  the  stowaway's  spot- 
white  shirt  and  collar.  Then  he  nodded  his  head 

ly. 

Mr.  Gray  is  the  Chief  Engineer,"  he  explained,  with 
ick  courtesy. 

Yes,  sir, —  I  know,"  responded  Percival.  "  He 
Dies  of  one  of  the  oldest  and  most  highly  con 
ed  families  in  Baltimore.  He  informs  me  that  his 
i  er— " 

Never  mind!"  snapped  the  Captain.  "We  need 
(  discuss  Mr.  Gray's  antecedents.  How  old  are 

?" 

Thirty  last  Friday,  sir." 

Married?" 

No,  sir." 

Parents  living?" 

No,  sir." 

And  now,  what  the  devil  do  you  mean  by 
r  iking  aboard  this  ship  and  hiding  yourself 
i  the  —  by  the  way,  Mr.  Mott,  where  was  he 
i  ng?  " 


14  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

Mr.  Mott :  "  It  doesn't  seem  to  be  quite  clear  as 
yet,  sir." 

Captain  Trigger:     "What's  that?" 

Mr.  Mott:  "I  say,  it  isn't  quite  clear.  We  have 
only  his  word  for  it.  You  see,  he  wasn't  discovered 
until  he  accosted  Mr.  Shannon  on  the  bridge  and 
asked  — " 

Captain  Trigger:     "On  the  bridge,  Mr.  Mott?" 

Mr.  Mott :  "  That  is  to  say,  sir,  Mr.  Shannon  was 
on  the  bridge  and  he  was  below  on  the  promenade  deck. 
He  asked  Mr.  Shannon  if  he  was  the  Captain  of  the 
boat." 

Captain  Trigger:     "  He  did,  eh?     Well?" 

Mr.  Mott :  "  He  was  informed  that  you  were  at 
breakfast,  sir, —  no  one  suspecting  him  of  being  a  stow 
away,  of  course, —  and  then,  it  appears,  he  started  out 
to  look  for  you.  That's  how  he  fell  in  with  the  Chief 
Engineer.  Mr.  Gray  informs  me  that  he  applied  for 
work,  admitting  that  he  was  aboard  without  leave,  or 
passage,  or  funds, — •  or  anything  else,  it  would  seem. 
But,  as  for  where  he  lay  in  hiding,  there  hasn't  been 
anything  definite  arrived  at  as  yet,  sir.  He  seems  to 
have  been  hiding  in  a  rather  wide-spread  sort  of  way." 

Mr.  Percival,  amiably :  "Permit  me  to  explain,  Cap 
tain  Trigger.  You  see,  I  have  been  obliged  to  change 
staterooms  three  times.  Naturally,  that  might  be  ex 
pected  to  create  some  little  confusion  in  my  mind.  I 
began  in  the  second  cabin.  Much  to  my  surprise  and 
chagrin  I  found,  too  late,  that  the  stateroom  I  had 
chosen, —  at  random,  I  may  say, —  was  merely  in  the 
state  of  being  prepared  for  a  lady  and  gentleman  who 
had  asked  to  be  transferred  from  a  less  desirable  one. 
I  had  some  difficulty  in  getting  out  of  it  without  attract 
ing  attention.  I  don't  know  what  I  should  have  done 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  15 

if  the  steward  hadn't  informed  them  that  he  could 
not  move  their  steamer-trunk  until  morning.  There 
wouldn't  have  been  room  for  both  of  us  under  the  berth, 
sir.  If  the  gentleman  had  been  alone  I  shouldn't  have 
minded  in  the  least  remaining  under  his  berth,  but 
he—" 

Captain  Trigger :  "  How  did  you  happen  to  get 
into  that  room,  young  man?  The  doors  are  never  un 
locked  when  the  rooms  are  unoccupied." 

Mr.  Percival :  "  You  are  mistaken,  sir.  I  found  at 
least  three  stateroom  doors  unlocked  that  night,  and 
my  search  was  by  no  means  extensive." 

Captain  Trigger :  "  This  is  most  extraordinary,  Mr. 
Mott,—  if  true." 

Mr.  Mott :  "  It  shall  be  looked  into,  sir." 
Captain  Trigger :  "  Go  on,  young  man." 
Mr.  Percival :  "  I  tried  another  room  in  the  second 
cabin,  but  had  to  abandon  it  also.  It  had  no  regular 
occupant, —  it  was  Number  ££,  I  remember, —  but  along 
about  midnight  two  men  opened  the  door  with  a  key 
and  came  in.  They  were  stewards.  I  gathered  that 
they  were  getting  the  room  ready  for  someone  else,  so 
when  they  departed,  very  quietly,  sir, —  I  sneaked  out 
and  decided  to  try  for  accommodations  in  the  first 
cabin.  I  — " 

Mr.  Mott :     "  Did  you  say  stewards  ?" 
Mr.  Percival:     "That's  what  I  took  them  to  be." 
Captain  Trigger:     "You   are   either  lying,   young 
man,  or  plumb  crazy." 

Mr.  Percival,  with  dignity :  "  The  latter  is  quite 
possible,  Captain, —  but  not  the  former.  I  managed 
quite  easily  to  get  from  the  second  cabin  to  the  first. 
You'd  be  surprised  to  know  how  simple  it  was.  Run 
ning  without  lights  as  you  do,  sir,  simplified  things 


16  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

tremendously.  I  found  a  very  sick  and  dejected  Jew 
ish  gentleman  trying  to  die  in  the  least  exposed  corner 
of  the  promenade  deck.  At  least,  he  said  he  didn't 
want  to  live.  I  offered  to  put  him  to  bed  and  to  sit 
up  with  him  all  night  if  it  would  make  him  feel  a  little 
less  like  passing  away.  He  lurched  at  the  chance.  I 
accompanied  him  to  his  stateroom,  and  so  got  a  few 
much-needed  hours  of  repose,  despite  his  groans.  I 
also  ate  his  breakfast  for  him.  Skirmishing  around 
this  morning,  I  found  there  were  no  unoccupied  rooms 
in  the  first  cabin,  so  I  decided  that  we  were  far  enough 
from  land  for  me  to  reveal  myself  to  the  officer  of  the 
day, —  if  that's  what  you  call  'em  on  board  ship, — 
with  a  very  honest  and  laudable  desire  to  work  my  pas 
sage  home.  I  can  only  add,  Captain,  that  I  am  ready 
and  willing  to  do  anything  from  swabbing  floors  on  the 
upper  deck  to  passing  coal  at  the  bottom  of  the  ship." 

Captain  Trigger  stared  hard  at  the  young  man,  a 
puzzled  expression  in  his  eyes. 

"  You  appear  to  be  a  gentleman,"  he  said  at  last. 
<GWhy  are  you  on  board  this  ship  as  a  stowaway? 
Don't  you  know  that  I  can  put  you  in  irons,  confine 
you  to  the  brig,  and  put  you  ashore  at  the  first  port  of 
call?" 

"  Certainly,  sir.  That's  just  what  I  am  trying  to 
avoid.  As  a  gentleman,  I  am  prepared  to  do  everything 
in  my  power  to  relieve  you  of  what  must  seem  a  most 
painful  official  duty." 

Mr.  Mott  smiled.  The  Captain  stiffened  percept 
ibly. 

"  How  did  you  come  aboard  this  ship?"  he  demanded. 

"  As  a  coal  passer,  sir.  Day  before  yesterday,  when 
you  were  getting  in  the  last  lot  of  coal.  I  had  a  single 
five  dollar  gold  piece  in  my  pocket.  It  did  the  trick. 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  17 

With  that  seemingly  insignificant  remnant  of  a  com 
fortable  little  fortune,  I  induced  one  of  the  native  coal 
carriers, —  a  Portuguese  nobleman,  I  shall  always  call 
him, —  to  part  with  his  trousers,  shirt  and  hat.  I 
slipped  'em  on  over  my  own  clothes,  stuffed  my  boots 
and  socks  inside  my  shirt,  picked  up  his  basket  of  coal, 
and  walked  aboard.  It  isn't  necessary,  I  suppose,  to 
state  that  my  career  as  a  dock-hand  ceased  with  that 
solitary  basket  of  coal,  or  that  having  once  put  foot 
aboard  the  Doraine,  I  was  in  a  position  to  book  myself 
as  a  passenger." 

"  Well,  I'm  damned !  "  said  Captain  Trigger.  "  Some 
one  shall  pay  for  this  carelessness,  Mr.  Mott.  I've 
never  heard  of  anything  so  cool.  What  did  you  say 
your  name  is,  young  man?" 

"  A.  A.  Percival,  sir." 

"  Ah  —  ahem !  I  see.  Will  it  offend  you,  A.  A.,  if 
I  make  so  bold  as  to  inquire  why  the  devil  you  neglected 
to  book  your  passage  in  the  regular  way,  as  any  gentle 
man  from  Baltimore  might  have  been  expected  to  do, 
and  where  is  your  passport,  your  certificate  of  health, 
your  purse  and  your  discharge  from  prison?" 

Mr.  Percival  spread  out  his  hands  in  a  gesture  of 
complete  surrender. 

"  Would  you  be  interested  in  my  story,  Captain 
Trigger?  It  is  brief,  but  edifying.  When  I  arrived 
in  town,  the  evening  before  you  were  to  sail,  I  had  a 
wallet  well-filled  with  gold,  currency,  and  so  forth.  I 
had  travelled  nearly  two  thousand  miles, —  from  the 
foothills  of  the  Andes,  to  be  more  definite, —  and  I  had 
my  papers,  my  cancelled  contract,  and  a  clear  right- 
of-way,  so  to  speak.  My  personal  belongings  were  sup 
posed  to  have  arrived  in  town  on  the  train  with  me. 
A  couple  of  cow-hide  trunks,  in  fact.  Well,  they  didn't 


18  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

arrive.  I  don't  know  what  became  of  them.  I  had  no 
time  to  investigate.  This  was  the  last  boat  I  could  get 
for  two  or  three  weeks  that  would  land  me  in  the  U.  S. 
A.  I  put  up  at  tUe  Alcazar  Grand  for  the  night.  It 
was  then  too  late  to  secure  passage,  but  I  fully  intended 
to  do  so  the  first  thing  in  the  morning.  There  was  a 
concert  and  dance  at  the  hotel  that  night,  and  I  went 
in  to  look  on  for  awhile.  I  ran  across  a  friend,  an 
engineer  who  was  on  the  job  with  me  up  in  the  hills  a 
few  months  ago.  He  is  also  an  American,  a  chap  from 
Providence,  Rhode  Island.  Connected  with  the  con 
sular  service  now.  He  was  with  a  small  party  of  Amer 
icans, —  am  I  boring  you  ?" 

"  No,  no, —  get  on  with  it,"  urged  Captain  Trigger. 

"  Several  of  them  were  sailing  on  this  ship,  and  they 
were  having  a  little  farewell  party.  That,  however, 
has  nothing  to  do  with  the  case.  I  left  them  at  mid 
night  and  went  up  to  my  room.  Now  comes  the  part 
you  will  not  believe.  During  the  night, —  I  sleep  very 
soundly, —  some  one  entered  my  room,  rifled  my  pockets, 
and  got  away  with  everything  I  possessed,  except  my 
clothes  and  the  five-dollar  gold  piece  I  have  carried  ever 
since  I  left  home, —  as  a  lucky  coin,  you  know.  He  — " 

"  How  did  he  happen  to  overlook  your  lucky  coin?" 
inquired  the  Captain  sarcastically. 

"  Because  it  couldn't  be  a  lucky  coin  if  I  carried  it 
in  my  purse.  No  coin  is  ever  lucky  that  gets  into  my 
purse,  Captain.  I  always  kept  it  tightly  sewed  up  in 
the  band  of  my  trousers,  safe  from  the  influence  of  evil 
companions.  I  did  not  discover  the  loss  until  morn 
ing.  It  was  then  too  late  to  do  anything,  as  you  were 
sailing  at  eight.  My  Providence  friend  was  not  avail 
able.  I  knew  no  one  else.  But  I  was  determined  to 
sail  on  the  Dorainc.  That's  the  story,  sir,  in  brief.  I 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  19 

leave  it  to  you  if  I  wasn't  justified  in  doing  the  best  I 
could  under  the  circumstances." 

Captain  Trigger  was  not  as  fierce  as  he  looked.  He 
could  not  keep  the  twinkle  out  of  his  eye. 

"  We  will  see  about  that,"  he  managed  to  say  with 
commendable  gruffness.  "Assuming  that  your  story  is 
true,  why  are  you  in  such  a  tremendous  hurry  to  reach 
the  United  States?  Skipping  out  for  some  reason, 
eh?" 

"  Well,"  said  the  young  man  slowly,  "  you  see,  news 
is  a  long  time  getting  out  into  the  wilderness  where  I've 
been  located  for  a  couple  of  years.  We  knew,  of  course, 
that  there  was  a  war  on,  but  we  didn't  know  how  it  was 
progressing.  Down  here  in  this  part  of  the  world  we 
have  a  war  every  two  or  three  months,  and  we've  got  so 
used  to  having  'em  over  within  a  week  or  two  that  we 
just  naturally  don't  pay  much  attention  to  them.  We 
don't  even  care  who  wins.  But  a  couple  of  months  ago 
we  got  word  up  there  that  the  United  States  had  finally 
got  into  it  with  everybody  under  the  sun,  and  that  the 
Germans  were  bound  to  win  if  we  didn't  get  a  couple  of 
million  men  across  in  pretty  short  order.  I  am  thirty 
years  old,  Captain,  strong  and  healthy,  and  I'm  a  good 
American.  That's  why  I  want  to  get  home.  I've  told 
you  the  truth  about  being  robbed.  I  don't  mind  losing 
the  money, —  only  a  couple  of  thousand  pesos,  you 
know, —  but  if  you  chuck  me  off  at  the  next  port  of 
call,  Captain  Trigger,  I'll  curse  you  to  my  dying  day. 
I'm  willing  to  work,  I'm  willing  to  be  put  in  irons,  I'm 
willing  to  get  along  on  bread  and  water,  but  you've 
just  got  to  land  me  in  the  United  States.  You  are  an 
Englishman.  I  suppose  you've  got  relatives  over  in 
France  fighting  the  Germans.  Maybe  you've  had  some 
one  killed  who  is  dear  to  you." 


20  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

"  My  youngest  son  was  killed  in  Flanders,"  said  the 
Captain  simply. 

"  I  am  sorry,  sir.  Well,  for  every  Englishman  and 
every  Frenchman  who  has  died  over  there,  my  country 
ought  to  supply  some  one  to  take  his  place.  I  expect 
to  be  one  of  those  men,  Captain.  I  have  no  other  ex 
cuse  for  coming  aboard  your  ship  as  a  stowaway." 

The  Captain  still  eyed  him  narrowly. 

"  I  believe  you  are  honest,  young  man.  If  I  am  de 
ceived  in  you  I  shall  never  trust  the  eyes  of  another 
man  as  long  as  I  live.  Sit  down,  Mr.  Percival.  I  shall 
put  you  to  work,  never  fear,  but  in  the  meantime  I  am 
very  much  interested  in  what  you  were  doing  up  in  the 
hills.  You  will  oblige  me  by  going  as  fully  as  possible 
into  all  the  details.  I  shall  not  pass  judgment  on  you 
until  I've  heard  all  of  your  story." 


CHAPTER  II 

ALGERNON  ADONIS  PERCIVAL,  civil  and 
mining  engineer,  Cornell,  had  gone  through 
certain  rather  harsh  stages  of  development  in 
the  mines  of  Montana  and  later  in  the  perilous  districts 
of  Northern  Mexico.  A  year  or  two  prior  to  the 
breaking  out  of  the  great  World  War,  he  was  sent  to 
South  America  to  replace  the  general  superintendent 
of  a  new  copper-mining  enterprise  in  a  remote  section 
of  the  Andes,  on  the  Bolivian  side  of  the  mountains. 
Here  he  was  in  charge  of  the  heterogeneous  horde  of 
miners,  labourers,  structural  workers  and  assayists  who 
were  engaged  in  the  development  and  extension  of  the 
vast  concession  controlled  by  his  company. 

His  description  of  the  camp  or  town  in  which  this 
motley  assemblage  dwelt  from  one  year's  end  to  the 
other,  far  from  civilization,  was  illuminating  to  the 
two  sea-faring  men.  It  must  be  confessed,  however, 
that  a  sound  reluctance  to  swallow  the  tale  without  the 
proverbial  grain  of  salt  caused  them  to  watch  closely 
for  the  slightest  sign  that  might  reveal  to  them  the 
always-to-be  expected  and  seldom  successful  duplicity 
so  common  in  those  harrowing  days  when  all  men  were 
objects  of  suspicion.  From  time  to  time  they  glanced 
inquiringly  at  each  other,  but  the  stranger's  story  was 
so  straightforward,  so  lacking  in  personal  exploitation, 
so  free  from  unnecessary  detail,  that  they  were  finally 
convinced  that  he  was  all  that  he  represented  himself 
to  be  and  that  they  had  nothing  to  fear  from  him, 

His  long,  hazardous  journey  by  horse  through  the 

21 


20  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

passes  down  into  the  forests  and  jungles,  out  upon  the 
endless,  sparsely  settled  pampas,  and  eventually  into 
the  remote  village  that  witnessed  the  passing  every 
second  day  of  a  primitive  and  far  from  dependable  rail 
way  train,  was  presented  with  agreeable  simplicity  and 
conciseness.  He  passed  briefly  over  what  might  have 
been  expanded  into  grave  experiences,  and  at  last  came, 
so  to  speak,  to  the  gates  of  the  city,  unharmed,  resolute 
and  full  of  the  fire  that  knows  no  quenching. 

"  By  the  way,"  observed  the  Captain,  still  wary,  "  has 
it  occurred  to  you  we  may  be  justified  in  suspecting 
that  you  deserted  your  post  up  there  in  the  hills,  and 
that  you  have  betrayed  the  confidence  of  your  em 
ployers  ?  "  Percival  had  completed  what  he  evidently 
believed  to  be  a  full  and  satisfactory  account  of  him 
self. 

"  I  was  in  full  charge  up  there,  Captain  Trigger. 
My  contract  had  but  a  month  more  to  run.  I  ap 
pointed  my  own  successor,  and  the  company  will  not 
be  any  the  worse  off  for  the  change.  My  letter  to  head 
quarters,  announcing  my  decision  not  to  renew  the  con 
tract,  went  forward  two  weeks  before  I  left  the  camp. 
I  merely  anticipated  the  actual  termination  of  my  con 
tract  by  a  month  or  so,  and  as  I  handed  my  resigna 
tion  at  once  to  my  own  newly  appointed  superintend 
ent,  I  submit  that  I  acted  in  absolute  good  faith.  I 
may  say  that  he  accepted  it  without  a  word  of  pro 
test,  sir.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  told  him  in  advance 
that  I  wouldn't  appoint  him  unless  he  agreed  to  accept 
my  resignation." 

The  Captain  smiled  at  this  ingenuous  explanation. 

"  I  daresay  I  ought  to  put  you  under  guard,  Mr. 
Percival,"  he  said.  "  My  duty  is  very  plain.  A  stow 
away  is  a  stowaway,  no  matter  how  you  look  at  him. 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  23 

The  regulations  do  not  leave  me  any  choice.  Mari 
time  justice  is  rarely  tempered  by  mercy.  However, 
under  the  circumstances,  I  am  inclined  to  accept  your 
word  of  honour  that  you  will  not  violate  your  parole 
if  I  refrain  from  putting  you  in  irons.  Have  I  your 
word  of  honour  that  you  will  not  leave  this  ship  until 
I  hand  you  over  to  the  proper  authorities  in  the  United 
States?" 

"  You  have,  sir." 

"  You  are  a  very  head-strong,  ambitious  young  man. 
You  will  not  jump  overboard  and  try  to  beat  us  into 
port  under  your  own  steam?  " 

"  You  may  trust  me,  sir,  never  to  give  up  the  ship." 

"  And  you  will  kill  as  many  Germans  as  possible?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  A.  A.  Percival  submissively. 

Captain  Trigger  arose  and  extended  his  hand. 

"  I've  never  done  anything  like  this  before  in  all  my 
years  as  ship's  master.  You  ought  to  be  flogged  and 
stowed  away  in  the  brig  until  you  show  a  properly  sub 
dued  spirit,  young  man.  I  suppose  you've  heard  of  the 
cat-o'-nine-tails  ?  " 

"  My  reading  up  to  the  age  of  fifteen  was  confined 
almost  exclusively  to  the  genteel  histories  of  pirates, 
buccaneers  and  privateersmen,  Captain  Trigger,"  an 
nounced  A.  A.  Percival,  taking  the  master's  hand  in  a 
firm  grip.  "  I  wonder  if  you  know  what  a  black-snake 
whip  is,  or  a  cattle-adder?  Well,  they're  both  painful 
and  convincing.  As  director  of  morals  in  the  camp  I 
have  just  left  behind  me,  it  was  my  official  duty  on  fre 
quent  occasions  to  see  to  it  that  current  offenders  had 
from  fifteen  to  fifty  applications  of  the  black-snake  in 
a  public  sort  of  way.  The  black-snake,  I  may  explain, 
could  be  wielded  by  a  strong  but  unskilled  arm.  It  was 
different,  however,  with  the  cattle-adder.  That  had  to 


24  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

be  handled  by  an  expert,  one  who  could  stand  off 
twenty  paces,  more  or  less,  and  crack  the  long  lash 
with  such  astonishing  precision  that  the  tip  end  of  it 
barely  touched  the  back  of  the  culprit,  the  result  being 
a  nobby  assortment  of  splotches  that  looked  for  all  the 
world  like  hives  after  the  blood  got  back  into  them 
again.  You  see,  I  was  chief  magistrate,  executioner 
ex-officio,  chief  of  police,  jury  commissioner  —  in  fact, 
an  all-around  potentate.  Sort  of  Pooh-bah,  you  know. 
For  serious  offences,  such  as  wife  beating,  wife  stealing, 
or  having  more  than  one  wife  at  a  time,  we  were  not  so 
lenient.  The  offender,  on  conviction,  was  strung  up 
by  the  thumbs  and  used  as  a  target  by  amateurs  who 
desired  to  become  proficient  in  the  use  of  the  cattle- 
adder.  Murderers  were  attended  to  a  trifle  more  expe- 
ditiously.  They  were  strung  up  by  the  neck." 

"  Good  God,  man, —  do  you  mean  to  say  you  hung 
men  in  that  off-hand  fashion?  "  cried  Captain  Trigger, 
aghast. 

"  Not  without  a  fair  trial,  sir.  No  innocent  man 
was  ever  hung.  There  was  no  such  thing  as  circum 
stantial  evidence  in  that  camp.  The  guilty  man  was 
always  taken  red-handed.  We  had  good  laws  and  they 
were  rigidly  enforced.  There  was  no  other  way,  sir. 
Short,  sharp  and  decisive.  It's  the  best  way.  Men 
understand  that  sort  of  thing  and  honest  men  approve 
of  the  method.  You  see,  gentlemen,  we  had  a  hard  lot 
of  characters  to  deal  with.  I  wish  to  add,  however, 
that  before  I  had  been  up  there  six  months  we  had  a 
singularly  law-abiding  and  self-respecting  camp. 
Crime  was  not  tolerated,  not  even  by  the  men  who  had 
once  been  criminals.  If  two  men  quarrelled,  they  were 
allowed  to  fight  it  out  fairly  and  squarely  in  any  way 
they  could  agree  upon.  Knives,  hatchets  and  all  other 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  25 

messy  weapons  were  barred.  It  was  either  fists,  pistols 
or  rifles  at  a  fairly  long  range,  and  under  the  strictest 
rules.  Duels  were  fought  according  to  Hoyle,  and 
were  witnessed  by  practically  every  one  in  camp.  You 
will  perceive  that  Copperhead  Camp  was  no  place  for 
a  coward  or  a  bluffer  or  a  bully.  It  takes  a  brave  man 
to  fight  a  duel  with  a  chap  who  may  be  only  half  as  big 
as  he  is,  but  who  can  shoot  like  the  devil.  So  you  see, 
Captain  Trigger,  the  cat-o'-nine-tails  has  no  terror 
for  me." 

Mr.  Mott  regarded  the  young  man  with  wide-open, 
somewhat  incredulous  eyes. 

"  You  don't  look  like  a  fire-eating,  swashbuckling 
party  to  me,"  he  said. 

"  I  am  the  most  peaceable  chap  you've  ever  seen,  Mr. 
Mott.  You  needn't  be  alarmed.  I'm  not  going  to  bite 
a  hole  in  the  ship  and  scuttle  her.  Moreover,  I  am  a 
very  meek  and  lowly  individual  on  board  this  ship. 
There's  a  lot  of  difference  between  being  in  supreme 
command  with  all  kinds  of  authority  to  bolster  you  up 
and  being  a  rat  in  a  trap  as  I  am  now.  Up  in  Copper 
head  Camp  I  was  a  nabob,  here  I'm  a  nobody.  Up 
there  I  was  the  absolute  boss  of  five  or  six  hundred 
men, —  I  won't  say  I  could  boss  the  wromen, —  and  I 
made  'em  all  walk  chalk  without  once  losing  step. 
There  were  murderers  and  crooks,  blacklegs  and  gun 
men  in  my  genial  aggregation,  men  whose  true  names 
we  never  knewr,  men  who  were  wanted  in  every  part  of 
the  civilized  world.  The  only  place  on  earth,  I  sup 
pose,  where  they  could  feel  reasonably  at  home  was  in 
that  gosh-awful  nowhere  that  we  called  Copperhead 
Camp.  You  can't  handle  such  men  with  mittens.  And 
there  were  good  men  there  as  well, —  good,  strong, 
righteous  men.  They  were  the  leaven  that  made  the 


26  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

whole  thing  palatable.  Without  them  I  could  have 
had  no  authority.  But  I  dare  say  I  am  boring  you. 
The  present  situation  is  the  one  we're  interested  in, 
not  the  lordly  past  of  your  humble  and,  I  trust,  obe 
dient  servant." 

His  smile  was  most  engaging,  but  back  of  it  the  two 
seamen  read  strength,  decision,  integrity.  The  gay, 
bantering,  whilom  attitude  of  this  unusual  young  man 
was  not  assumed.  It  was  not  a  pose.  He  was  not  a 
dare-devil,  nor  was  he  a  care-free,  unstable  youth  who 
had  matured  abruptly  in  the  exercise  of  power.  On 
the  contrary,  he  was, —  and  Captain  Trigger  knew 
it, —  the  personification  of  confidence,  an  optimist  to 
whom  victory  and  defeat  are  equally  unavoidable  and 
therefore  to  be  reckoned  as  one  in  the  vast  scheme  of 
human  endeavour;  a  fighter  who  merely  rests  on  his 
arms  but  never  lays  them  down;  a  spirit  that  absorbs 
the  bitters  and  the  sweets  of  life  with  equal  relish. 

Captain  Trigger  was  not  slow  in  making  up  his  mind. 
This  clean-minded,  clean-bodied  American  with  the  con 
fident  though  respectful  smile,  was  a  chap  after  his  own 
heart. 

"  I  hardly  know  what  to  do  with  you,  Percival,"  he 
said,  a  scowl  of  genuine  perplexity  in  his  eyes.  "  You 
are  not  an  ordinary  transgressor.  You  are  a  gentle 
man.  You  have  exercised  an  authority  perhaps  some 
what  similar  to  my  own, —  possibly  in  some  respects 
your  position  up  there  was  even  more  autocratic,  if  I 
may  use  the  term.  I  am  not  unconscious  of  all  this, 
and  yet  I  have  no  choice  other  than  that  designated  by 
law.  The  regulations  are  unalterable.  It  is  a  matter 
of  morale,  pure  and  simple.  We  are  compelled  to  treat 
all  stowaways  alike.  Of  course,  I  shall  not  subject  you 
to  the  ordinary  —  shall  we  say  methods  of  — " 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  27 

"  Pardon  me,  Captain,"  broke  in  the  young  man,  his 
smile  no  longer  in  evidence ;  "  I  am  asking  no  favours. 
I  expect  to  be  treated  as  an  ordinary  stowaway.  Set 
me  to  work  at  anything  you  like  and  I  will  make  as 
good  a  job  of  it  as  possible." 

"  I  was  about  to  suggest  that  you  serve  as  a  sort  of 
assistant  to  Mr.  Codge,  the  purser.  I've  no  doubt  he 
could  find  something  for  you  to  do  and  — " 

"  If  that  is  your  way  of  punishing  me,  Captain  Trig 
ger,  of  course  there  is  nothing  for  me  to  do  but  to 
submit." 

"  Eh  ?  I  am  sure  you  will  not  find  Mr.  Codge  a 
hard  taskmaster.  He  is  quite  a  good-natured  man." 

"  Extremely  kind  and  considerate,"  hastily  added 
Mr.  Mott,  reassuringly. 

"  But  I  don't  want  to  loaf  my  passage  home,"  pro 
tested  Percival.  "  I  want  to  be  sentenced  to  the  hard 
est  sort  of  labour,  if  you  don't  mind.  I  don't  want  to 
owe  this  steamship  company  a  penny  when  I  step 
ashore.  It  is  your  duty,  sir,  as  master  of  this  ship, 
to  put  me  on  the  meanest  job  you've  got." 

"  My  word !  "  exclaimed  Captain  Trigger. 

"  I'm  blessed!  "  said  Mr.  Mott. 

"  Up  where  I've  been  running  things  and  cock-walking 
like  a  foreman  in  a  shirt-waist  factory,  I  made  the  rules 
and  I  enforced  them.  I  want  to  say  to  you  that  no 
favours  were  shown.  If  the  Prince  of  Wales  had 
drifted  in  there,  dead  broke,  and  asked  for  something 
to  eat,  he  would  have  got  it,  but  you  bet  your  life  he'd 
have  had  to  work  for  it.  A  tramp's  a  tramp,  no  mat 
ter  how  much  purple  he's  been  used  to,  and  you  can  say 
the  same  for  a  stowaway.  What's  the  matter  with  me 
taking  the  place  of  one  of  those  deck-hands,  or  what 
ever  you  call  'em,  you  lost  last  night?  " 


28  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

"What's  that?" 

"  Swabbers,  maybe  you  call  'em.  Men  that  mop  up 
the  decks  after  everybody  else  has  turned  in." 

"  What  are  you  talking  about  ?"  demanded  the  Cap 
tain,  sitting  up  very  straight.  Percival  stared  at  him 
in  astonishment. 

"  I  thought  you  knew  about  it,  of  course.  Good 
Lord,  sir,  don't  you  know  that  a  couple  of  your  men 
jumped  overboard  last  night, —  or  early  this  morning, 
rather?  Just  as  the  ship  was  rounding  that  big  head 
land  — " 

"  Good  God,  man,  are  you  in  earnest  ?"  cried  Mr. 
Mott,  starting  toward  the  door. 

"  I  certainly  am.  I  took  them  for  deserters,  of 
course, —  not  suicides,  because  they  didn't  forget  to 
put  on  life  preservers  before  they  jumped.  I  haven't 
a  doubt  they  were  picked  up,  so  there's  no  use  worry 
ing.  A  minute  or  two  after  they  went  over, —  from 
the  bottom  deck  or  whatever  you  call  it, —  I  heard  a 
motor  boat  popping  away  like  a  gatling-gun  not 
far,—" 

But  he  was  alone.  Captain  Trigger  had  dashed  out 
of  the  cabin  in  the  wake  of  the  First  Officer. 

Algernon  Adonis  Percival  stared  blankly  at  the  open 
door. 

"  Good  Lord,  why  all  this  excitement  over  a  couple 
of  bums?"  he  said,  addressing  space.  "  If  they  were 
working  for  me,  I'd  thank  the  Lord  to  be  rid  of  'em 
so  cheaply.  They  —  Hello!" 

The  Second  Officer  popped  into  the  room. 

"  Come  along  with  me,"  he  snapped.  "  Lively,  now. 
Just  where  and  when  did  you  see  a  couple  of  men  go 
overboard?  Quietly,  now.  We  don't  want  to  alarm 
the  passengers." 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  29 

Within  five  minutes  after  Percival's  disturbing  re 
port,  the  officers  of  the  Doraine,  with  set  faces,  were 
employed  in  a  swift  but  silent  investigation.  Before 
many  more  minutes  had  passed,  at  least  a  portion  of 
the  stowaway's  story  had  been  verified.  Two  men  were 
found  to  be  missing,  although,  strange  to  say,  they  had 
not  been  missed  up  to  the  time  that  noses  were  counted. 
They  wer$  down  on  the  ship's  roster  as  Norwegians, 
New  York  registry,  and  had  come  down  with  the  Do- 
raine  on  her  trip  from  the  north. 

Percival  repeated  his  story,  but  had  little  to  add  in 
the  way  of  detail.  He  had  stolen  on  deck  some  time 
after  midnight  for  a  breath  of  air,  risking  detection, 
and  from  the  shelter  of  a  secluded  corner  well  aft  had 
heard  the  two  men  swabbing  the  deck  below.  Suddenly 
they  ceased  work,  and  he  prepared  to  creep  back  to  a 
place  of  safety,  concluding  that  they  were  on  their  way 
to  the  upper  deck. 

He  went  to  the  rail  to  listen.  The  two  men  were 
almost  directly  below  him,  and  he  could  see  the  upper 
portions  of  their  figures  as  they  leaned  far  out  over 
the  rail,  apparently  looking  into  the  swirling  waters 
below.  Quite  distinctly  he  heard  one  of  them  say,  in 
English :  "  We  got  to  do  it  now  or  never."  The  other 
mumbled  something  he  could  not  distinguish.  He  was 
only  mildly  interested,  not  anticipating  what  was  to 
follow.  For  a  few  seconds  he  heard  them  scrambling 
and  puffing  and  then  he  saw  them  quite  plainly  on  the 
rail,  their  figures  bulky  with  what  he  identified  as  life 
buoys,  a  faint  light  from  somewhere  falling  directly 
upon  the  grayish-white  objects  in  which  they  were 
swathed. 

One  of  them  uttered  the  word  "  Now !  "  and  to  his 
amazement  they  shot  out,  as  one  man,  into  the  black- 


30  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

ness  below.  There  was  a  single  splash.  For  a  moment 
or  two  he  stood  spell-bound.  Then  he  heard  some  one 
running  along  the  deck  below.  Convinced  that  the  in 
cident  had  been  witnessed  by  others,  he  darted  into  the 
companion-way  and  made  his  way  back  to  the  state 
room  of  the  sick  passenger.  Through  the  lightless 
porthole  he  listened  for  the  terrifying  shout,  "  Man 
overboard!"  It  did  not  come,  but  his  ear  caught  the 
staccato  beat  of  a  motor  near  by,  striking  up  abruptly 
out  of  the  swish  of  rushing  waters.  In  his  ignorance, 
he  decided  that  it  was  a  boat  from  the  ship  going  to 
the  rescue  of  the  daring  deserters,  and  calmly  waited 
for  the  engines  of  the  mighty  Doraine  to  cease  their 
rhythmic  pulsing.  He  fell  asleep. 

When  he  awoke,  he  concluded  that  he  had  dreamed 
the  whole  thing.  This  conclusion  was  justified  when 
he  asked  his  wretched  "  bunkie  "  if  he  had  observed  him 
leaving  the  room  during  the  night.  The  answer  was  a 
mournful  negative,  followed  by  the  sufferer's  more  or 
less  positive  declaration  that  he  was  staring  wide  awake 
the  whole  damned  night  long. 

Percival,  unconvinced,  boldly  made  his  way  to  the 
lower  deck  and  discovered  that  two  life  buoys  were 
missing  from  their  supports,  a  circumstance  that  put 
an  end  to  the  hope  that  he  had  dreamed  it  all.  His 
own  affairs  however  now  loomed  large,  taking  prece 
dence  over  the  plight  of  the  men  who  had  deliberately 
abandoned  the  ship.  In  any  case,  the  ship's  officers 
had  done  everything  that  could  be  done  in  the  matter. 
He  was  genuinely  astonished  to  learn  that  the  act  of 
the  two  men  was  unknown  to  the  Captain. 

A  hurried  conference  of  the  ship's  officers  and  the 
commander  of  the  gun-crew  resulted  in  a  single  but  defi 
nite  conclusion.  The  desperate,  even  suicidal  manner 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  31 

in  which  the  men  left  the  ship  signified  but  one  thing: 
the  absolute  necessity  of  flight  before  an  even  more 
sinister  peril  confronted  them.  Not  a  man  on  board 
doubted  for  an  instant  that  they  had  taken  their  chance 
in  the  waters  as  a  part  of  a  preconceived  plan,  and 
they  had  taken  it  with  all  the  devilish  hardihood  of 
fanatics. 

The  presence  of  the  motor  craft,  so  far  out  from  port, 
lurking  with  silent  engine  in  the  path  of  the  steamship, 
could  have  but  one  significance.  It  represented  one  of 
the  carefully  thought-out  details  in  a  stupendous,  far- 
reaching  plot. 

If  there  were  signals  between  the  motor  boat  and  the 
two  men  aboard  the  steamship,  they  were  not  observed 
by  the  lookouts.  In  all  probability  no  signals  were 
given.  The  little  craft  was  to  be  at  a  certain  place  at 
a  certain  hour, —  and  she  was  there !  The  men  who 
jumped  knew  that  she  would  be  there.  A  black,  tiny 
speck  on  the  broad  expanse  of  water,  sheltered  by  a  night 
of  almost  stygian  darkness,  she  lay  outside  the  narrow 
radius  to  which  visual  observation  was  confined,  pa 
tiently  waiting  for  the  Dorame  to  pass  a  designated 
point.  There  was  to  be  no  miscalculation  on  the  part 
of  either  the  boat  or  the  men  who  went  over  the  side 
of  the  big  steamship  into  the  seething  waters. 

The  closest  inquiry  among  the  members  of  the  crew 
failed  to  reveal  any  one  who  had  witnessed  the  leap 
of  the  men.  Percival  was  positive,  however,  that  some 
one  ran  along  the  lower  deck,  but  whether  toward  or 
away  from  the  spot  where  the  men  went  over  he  had  no 
means  of  knowing.  He  offered  the  suggestion  that 
there  were  three  persons  actually  involved,  and  that  one 
of  them,  more  than  likely  the  victim  of  a  coin-flipping 
decision,  had  remained  on  board  to  complete  the  work 


32  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

the  trio  had  been  chosen  to  perform,  even  though  death 
was  to  be  his  lot. 

The  Second  Officer  had  been  regarding  Percival  with 
ever-growing  suspicion. 

"  Is  there  anything  to  prove,  young  man,  that  you 
are  not  the  one  who  stayed  behind  to  complete  the  job?" 
he  demanded  at  last. 

"  Nothing,"  said  Percival  promptly,  and  somewhat 
scathingly,  "nothing  at  all,  except  the  trifling  fact  that 
I  am  here  talking  it  over  with  you  gentlemen  instead 
of  attending  to  my  business,  as  any  honest  conspirator 
should  be  doing.  You  may  be  quite  sure  of  one  thing : 
if  there  is  a  man  on  board  this  ship  whose  business  it 
is  to  finish  the  job,  he  isn't  idle.  He's  getting  on  with 
the  job  at  this  minute,  gentlemen.  If  you'll  take  my 
advice  you  will  institute  two  investigations.  First, 
search  the  ship  from  stem  to  stern,  from  keel  to  bridge, 
for  bombs  or  infernal  machines.  Second,  ask  your 
rich  passengers  if  they  have  lost  anything  in  the  shape 
of  pearls,  diamonds,  coin  of  the  realm,  or  anything  else 
worth  jumping  into  the  ocean  for." 

Captain  Trigger  looked  at  him  over  the  top  of  his 
eye-glasses. 

"  You  are  not  in  Copperhead  Camp  at  present,  Mr. 
Percival,"  he  said  stiffly. 

The  young  man  flushed.  "  I  beg  your  pardon,  Cap 
tain  Trigger,"  he  said  simply. 

"  All  you  have  to  do,"  said  the  Second  Officer,  fixing 
h:.a  with  an  inimical  eye,  "  is  to  answer  questions  and 
not  to  tell  us  how  to  run  this  ship." 

Percival  did  his  best  to  hold  back  the  retort,  but, 
failing,  released  it  with  considerable  sharpness: 

"  Well,  if  I  was  running  this  ship  I'd  head  her  for 
shore  pretty  damned  quick." 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  33 

The  American  in  command  of  the  gun-crew  was  the 
only  one  who  smiled,  and  he  did  it  openly.  Captain 
Trigger's  face  darkened  redly. 

"  Take  this  man  in  charge,  Mr.  Shannon.  He  wants 
work.  Give  it  him.'  Under  guard." 

"  Am  I  suspected,  Captain  Trigger,  of  being  in 
league  — " 

"  Every  man,  every  woman  on  board  this  ship  is 
suspected,"  said  the  Captain  with  decision.  "  Every 
one,  sir,  from  myself  down.  The  rest  of  us  grasp  that 
fact,  even  if  you  do  not." 

And  so  it  was  that  while  Algernon  Adonis  Percival, 
under  the  watchful  eye  of  a  burly  seaman,  fell  to  work 
scraping  the  scuppers  on  the  boat  deck,  the  stern  busi 
ness  of  searching  the  ship  went  forward  with  a  thor 
oughness  that  left  no  room  for  doubt  as  to  the  fears 
and  apprehensions  of  the  men  who  had  her  in  charge. 
Despite  the  fact  that  intensive,  anxious  hours  of  delv 
ing  revealed  no  hidden,  sinister  agent  of  destruction, 
there  was  no  relaxation  on  the  part  of  the  officers  and 
crew.  One  by  one  the  passengers  were  examined ;  their 
rooms  and  their  luggage  were  systematically  overhauled. 
No  one  resented  these  drastic  operations,  for  by  mid 
day  the  whole  ship's  company  knew  what  had  trans 
pired  during  the  night.  Eagerly  they  answered  the 
questions,  cheerfully  they  submitted  to  the  examina 
tion  of  their  effects,  and  then  fell  silent  and  subdued, 
oppressed  by  the  suspense  that  hung  over  the  ship  like 
a  cloud.  Crew  and  passengers  alike  underwent  the 
most  rigid  questioning,  the  high  and  the  low,  the  rich 
and  the  poor,  the  young  and  the  old. 

Earl}7  that  morning,  in  fact  some  time  prior  to  the 
time  that  Percival  told  his  story,  the  wireless  operator 
reported  that  his  transmitter  was  out  of  order.  While 


34  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

he  was  satisfied  that  the  apparatus  had  not  been  tam 
pered  with,  he  was  plainly  affected  by  the  rather  grim 
coincidence.  He  was  an  old  and  trusted  man  in  the 
service,  competent,  efficient  and  loyal. 

His  assistant,  the  night  operator,  however,  had  made 
less  than  half  a  dozen  voyages  on  the  Doraine.  He 
was  an  Englishman,  a  cripple ;  twice  he  had  been  rescued 
after  vessels  on  which  he  sailed  were  sent  to  the  bottom 
by  German  submarines.  His  credentials  were  flawless. 
He  was  on  duty  during  the  night  just  past,  and  had 
picked  up  several  indistinct,  incomplete  radio  messages. 
There  was  nothing  wrong  with  the  receiving  or  trans 
mitting  apparatus  when  he  went  off  duty  at  six  in  the 
morning,  and  as  his  superior  came  on  at  the  same  hour, 
—  they  exchanged  greetings  at  the  door  of  the  wire 
less  house, —  it  was  absolutely  impossible  for  any  one 
to  have  entered  the  well-guarded  room  without  attract 
ing  attention.  Cruise,  the  chief  radio-man,  had  his 
assistant  routed  out  of  bed  and  together  they  worked 
like  beavers  over  the  disabled  mechanism. 

Hour  after  hour,  the  nervous,  uneasy  passengers 
paced  the  decks.  Few  remained  indoors,  and  few  pos 
sessed  the  calmness  to  loll  in  deck-chairs. 

Percival  toiled  cheerfully,  but  with  eye  and  ear  alert 
for  the  first  inkling  of  definite  peril.  With  commend 
able  thoughtfulness,  he  had  shed  the  clean  white  shirt 
and  collar  so  generously  supplied  by  his  fellow  towns 
man,  and  had  donned  a  commodious  sea- jacket. 

He  could  not  help  observing  the  dark,  suspicious 
glances  cast  upon  him  by  the  deck-walkers,  nor  were 
his  ears  proof  against  audible  comments.  Mothers 
nudged  their  children  and  said,  in  slightly  lowered  but 
distinctly  impressive  tones: 

"  That's  the  man.     He's  a  stowaway." 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  35 

"See,  Wilfred,— see  the  man?  No,  no!  The  one 
with  the  mop,  dear.  Don't  go  near  him." 

"  What  a  dreadful  looking  creature  he  is." 

"  The  Captain  captured  him  this  morning  away  down 
in  the  bottom  of  the  ship.  He  was  stealing  a  ride." 

"  Poor  fellow !  He  doesn't  look  like  a  bad  man,  does 
he?" 

And  so  on  and  so  forth,  as  the  day  went  along. 

Masculine  strollers  had  very  decided  opinions  about 
him.  Mr.  Landover,  the  banker,  stopped  to  discuss 
the  toiling  menial  with  Mr.  Nicklestick,  Mr.  Block  and 
Mr.  Fitts. 

"  He  ought  to  be  in  irons,"  said  Mr.  Landover, 
glowering  at  Percival.  "  That's  what  I  told  the  Cap 
tain  a  little  while  ago.  He's  a  bad  egg,  that  fellow 
is.  I'm  a  pretty  good  judge  of  men,  gentlemen,  and 
I  don't  often  make  mistakes.  That  fellow  is  a  fugi 
tive  from  justice,  if  he  isn't  something  worse.  Observe 
the  cut  of  his  mouth  —  ah !  see  that?  What  did  I  tell 
you?  Did  you  ever  see  a  more  evil  grin?" 

"  Take  it^from  me,"  said  Mr.  Nicklestick,  "  that  guy 
knows  a  good  deal  more  about  what  is  going  on  aboard 
this  ship  than  he  lets  on.  He  ain't  as  simple  as  he 
looks.  I  told  Captain  Trigger  just  now  that  he  ought 
to  give  him  a  dose  of  the  third  degree.  That's  the  way 
to  get  to  the  bottom  of  this  business.  String  him  up 
by  the  thumbs  till  he  squeals.  What  say,  Mr.  Fitts?" 

Mr.  Fitts,  the  architect,  was  a  mild  man. 

"  He  strikes  me  as  a  rather  honest  looking  sort  of 
chap,"  he  said,  and  was  promptly  glared  at  by  his 
companions.  "  Of  course,"  he  hastened  to  add,  "  I  am 
not  saying  that  he  is  all  right.  He  may  be  as  crooked 
as  the  deuce.  I'm  only  saying  he's  got  a  rather  pleas 
ing  sort  of  face." 


36  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

"  The  most  innocent,  open-faced  young  fellow  we  ever 
had  in  the  bank,"  said  Mr.  Landover,  "  turned  out  to 
be  the  damnedest  rascal  I've  ever  encountered." 

"  How  did  you  happen  to  have  him  in  the  bank  if 
you  are  such  a  good  judge  of  men?"  inquired  Mr.  Fitts, 
utterly  without  malice. 

Mr.  Landover  reddened.  "  My  dear  sir,  I  do  not 
come  in  contact  with  every  employe  of  the  bank.  You 
forget  that  it  is  quite  an  immense  institution." 

"  It  sure  is,"  said  Mr.  Nicklestick.  "  I'm  thinking  of 
transferring  our  account  to  your  bank,  Mr.  Landover. 
We've  been  banking  with  — " 

"  I  vas  telling  my  vife  at  lunch,"  broke  in  Mr.  Block, 
twitching  his  Hebraic  nose  emphatically, —  "  not  that 
we  could  eat  any  lunch,  by  gracious,  no ! —  I  vas  telling 
her  I  bet  my  boots  dere  ain't  enough  life-boats  to  get 
as  much  as  half  of  us  off  safe  in  case  something  hap 
pens.  I  counted  up  all  the  life-boats  I  could  see,  and 
ven  I  estimate  the  number  of  peoples  on  board,  w'y,  by 
gracious,  the  loss  of  life  vould  be  frightful,  gentlemen. 
The  only  chance  ve  would  haf  would  be  for  approxi- 
madely  fifty  percent  of  the  peoples  on  board  to  be  killed 
outright  by  the  explosion." 

"  I  hear  there  is  a  detective  from  Chicago  on  board, 
with  a  prisoner,"  ventured  Mr.  Fitts.  "  Why  doesn't 
the  Captain  ask  him  to  have  a  look  at  this  stowaway 
fellow?" 

"What  would  be  the  good  of  that?"  demanded  Mr. 
Landover.  "  I  never  saw  a  detective  in  my  life  that 
knew  what  to  do  in  an  emergency.  Soon  as  you  get 
one  of  them  where  he  can't  telephone  in  to  headquarters 
for  instructions  he's  as  helpless  as  a  baby.  Don't  talk 
to  me  about  detectives.  Why,  this  fellow  would  simply 
laugh  in  his  face." 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  37 

"  Just  as  he  is  laughing  in  yours  at  this  moment, 
Mr.  Landover,"  pursued  Mr.  Fitts  pleasantly. 

"  The  damned  rascal,"  said  Mr.  Landover,  and 
stalked  away. 

"There  goes  one  of  the  biggest  figures  in  the  United 
States,"  said  Mr.  Nicklestick,  looking  after  the  banker. 
His  remark  was  addressed  to  Mr.  Fitts.  "  I  wish  I 
had  his  brains." 

"  Dey  vouldn't  do  you  any  good,  Nicklestick,"  said 
Mr.  Block,  "  unless  you  had  his  money  too  also." 

"If  I  had  his  brains,"  said  Mr.  Nicklestick,  "he 
wouldn't  have  his  money,  so  what's  the  difference?" 


CHAPTER  III 

MR.  BLOCK  looked  uneasily  out  over  the  tumb 
ling  ocean,  focusing  his  gaze  on  a  section  of 
the  horizon  that  for  want  of  something  more 
definite  than  mere  hope  lay  in  a  direct  line  with  the 
City  of  New  York. 

"  And  ven  you  stop  to  think,"  said  he  wistfully, 
"  that  ve  are  still  something  like  six  thousand  miles 
from  home, —  oh,  veil  t  Vat's  the  use  ?  I  bet  you  I 
never  go  so  far  avay  from  my  business  again.  Vat  a 
fool  I  vas  to  make  this  trip  ven  the  whole  ocean  is  full 
of  submarines  and  German  agents  and  plotters  and  — 
Yes,  vat  a  fool  ven  I  had  so  many  high-priced  men 
vorking  for  me  who  vas  crazy  to  come.  But  my  vife 
she  vould  do  it.  Paris  and  London  every  year  it  used 
to  be,  so  she  must  haf  a  little  holiday  or  she  vill  die, 
she  say.  Veil,  here  ve  are.  And  ven  I  think  vat  a  long 
holiday  it  is  going  to  be  maybe, —  by  gracious,  I  could 
kick  myself  for  not  giving  in  to  my  brother-in-law  ven 
he  begged  so  hard  to  be  allowed  to  make  the  trip  be 
cause  he  needed  the  change  from  not  being  avay  from 
the  office  for  five  years,  and  his  vife  and  children  too. 
His  vife  she  needed  a  change  as  much  as  he,  vat  with 
not  being  able  to  get  into  any  good  hotels  in  the  sum 
mer  time  and  not  being  able  to  keep  out  of  them  in  the 
vinter  time,  she  vas  nearly  distracted.  No,  I  vas  sel 
fish.  My  vife  she  vas  selfish  too, —  and  him  her  own 
brother.  Vy  shouldn't  he  haf  a  vacation  vonce  in 
awhile?" 

38 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  39 

He  turned  abruptly  to  the  sailor  who  lounged  near 
the  perspiring  Percival. 

"  How  far  is  it  to  land,  my  f rient  ?"  he  inquired. 

The  sailor  touched  his  cap.  "Which  way,  sir?"  he 
asked  solemnly.  "  Fore  or  aft  ?" 

(Percival  said  to  himself:  "By  golly,  I'll  bet  that 
man  is  an  American.'5) 

"  Vat  ?  Land, —  you  know  vat  I  mean, —  the  end  of 
the  ocean.  How  far  avay  is  it?" 

The  sailor  calculated.  "  Well,  the  nearest  land,  sir, 
I  should  say,  is  about  three  hundred  miles  away,  to 
port." 

"  How  deep  is  it  here?"  asked  Mr.  Nicklestick,  mov 
ing  away  from  the  rail  suddenly. 

The  sailor  glanced  down  at  the  water,  squinted  an 
ejre,  and  then  spoke  reassuringly. 

"  It  ain't  half  as  deep  here  as  it  is  a  little  furder 
on,"  he  said.  "  It's  only  a  shade  over  three  miles 
where  we  are  now,  sir.  We're  comin'  to  the  deepest 
part  of  the  ocean, —  ought  to  be  there  inside  of  a  couple 
of  hours.  Here,  you!  On  the  job,  on  the  job!" 

"  You  ought  to  search  that  man  carefully,"  advised 
Mr.  Nicklestick. 

"  I  have,"  growled  the  sailor.  "  He  says  he  never 
uses  it  in  that  form.  I  guess  he's  tellin'  the  truth." 

"  Never  uses  what  ?" 

"  Tobacco,  sir." 

"  Oh !"  said  Mr.  Nicklestick,  and,  catching  a  glimpse 
of  Madame  Obosky  emerging  upon  the  deck,  uncere 
moniously  deserted  his  companions  and  hurried  off  to 
join  her,  his  speed  being  suddenly  accelerated  by  the 
spectacle  of  Mr.  Shine,  the  .motion  picture  magnate, 
who  approached  the  lady  from  an  equi-distant  station 
and  with  similar  haste.  Mr.  Block,  being  a  trifle  near- 


40  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

sighted  and  in  some  doubt  as  to  the  whereabouts  of  his 
wife,  peered  here  and  there  intently,  and  then  bore  down 
upon  the  celebrated  Russian  dancer,  who,  it  would  seem, 
was  in  dire  need  of  consolation. 

Mr.  Fitts  followed  them  with  a  glance  over  his  glasses 
and  then  turned  to  the  sailor  man. 

"  I  suppose  it's  against  orders  for  me  to  speak  to 
this  man,"  he  said. 

"  Yes,  sir." 

The  architect  sighed,  and  walked  away. 

The  parade  became  more  interesting  as  the  lack  of 
news  from  the  investigators  restored  a  sort  of  hopeful 
optimism  to  the  breasts  of  the  anxious  company. 
Those  who  had  maintained  a  stubborn  air  of  bravado, 
now  became  almost  offensively  jaunty.  Others,  frankly 
terrified  at  the  outset,  sauntered  timidly  away  from  the 
life-boats  to  which  they  were  assigned.  Every  one  was 
glad  that  the  Captain  had  ordered  a  life-boat  drill  on 
the  first  afternoon  out,  and  every  one  was  glad  that  he 
had  ignored  the  demand  of  Mr.  Landover  that  the  boats 
be  lowered  the  instant  he  discovered  that  his  passengers 
were  in  peril.  No  news  was  good  news,  argued  the  ma 
jority,  and  jesting  was  in  order. 

Peter  Snipe,  the  novelist,  got  out  a  pad  of  paper  and 
began  jotting  down  impressions.  Madam  Careni- 
Amori  and  Signer  Joseppi  exchanged  the  first  friendly 
words  they  had  spoken  to  each  other  in  weeks,  and  in 
full  view  of  an  entranced  audience  linked  arms  and 
strode  bravely  to  and  fro,  the  former  clasping  a  huge 
jewel  case  to  her  ample  bosom,  the  latter  chafing  per 
ceptibly  under  the  weight  of  an  invisible  belt  stuffed  to 
its  capacity  with  banknotes  and  gold.  Chilean  ladies 
and  Chilean  gentlemen,  dazzling  Brazilian  ladies  and 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  41 

pompous  Brazilian  gentlemen,  smug  Argentinians, 
lordly  Castilians,  garrulous  Portuguese,  lofty  English 
gentlemen  and  supercilious  English  ladies,  friendly  and 
irrepressible  Americans, —  all  of  them  swinging  their 
sea-legs  with  new-found  abandon  —  clattered  solidly 
around  the  wind-swept  circuit.  New  faces  appeared 
in  the  procession,  new  voices  were  raised  with  energy, 
new  figures  sprang  into  existence  with  marvellous  rapid 
ity.  It  seemed  to  Percival  that  the  population  doubled 
and  tripled  and  quadrupled  with  every  throb  of  the 
powerful  engines.  He  saw  his  "bunkie"  of  the  night 
before, —  the  man  who  was  trying  so  hard  to  die  and 
couldn't, —  he  saw  him  plunging  along  with  the  throng, 
pale  but  valiant,  ferociously  glaring  at  every  one  who 
smoked. 

A  small  group  of  American  nurses,  some  young  and 
pretty,  others  young  and  homely,  but  all  of  them 
sprightly  and  clear-eyed, —  nine  of  them,  in  fact  — 
tramped  by  in  "columns  of  three." 

Percival's  guardian  jerked  his  head  in  their  direc 
tion  after  they  had  passed,  and  volunteered  this  bit  of 
information : 

"  Hornswoggled,  them  girls  was.  Come  all  the  way 
down  from  New  York  six  months  ago.  Promised 
double  pay  and  plenty  of  work  in  the  American  colony. 
Sore  as  crabs,  all  of  'em.  They  got  double  pay  all  right, 
all  right,  but  there  was  some  misunderstandin'  as  to 
what  single  pay  was  to  be  to  start  off  with.  Single  pay 
turned  out  to  be  just  whatever  suited  the  people  that 
employed  'em,  seein's  they  were  nearly  seven  thousand 
miles  away  from  God  and  up  against  it,  so  they're 
beatin'  it  back  home  to  volunteer  for  service  in  France. 
I  heard  one  of  'em  say  she  could  save  more  money 


42  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

workin'  for  nothin'  in  France  than  she  could  earn  in  a 
year  down  here  at  double  pay.  What'd  you  say  your 
name  was,  young  feller?" 

"  Percival." 

"  I  mean  your  last  name." 

"  That's  it." 

"  Come  off !     Nobody  ever  had  a  last  name  like  that." 

"  You  ought  to  hear  what  my  first  name  is, —  and 
my  middle  one,  too.  You  said  a  little  while  ago  you'd 
never  seen  any  one  of  my  size  with  bigger  and  harder 
muscles.  Well,  if  you  knew  what  my  full  name  is,  old 
man,  you'd  understand  why  I  began  developing  them, — 
I've  got  a  lot  more  too  that  you  can't  see, —  when  I 
first  began  going  to  school." 

"What  is  your  other  names?"  inquired  the  sailor 
curiously. 

"  Algernon  Adonis,"  said  Percival. 

The  sailor  was  silent  for  a  moment,  thinking  of  the 
proper  thing  to  say.  Then  he  said: 

"  You're  dead  right.  It  takes  a  heap  of  muscle  to 
pertect  a  name  like  that." 

Three  women  stopped  in  front  of  the  two  men.  Per 
cival  kept  his  eyes  lowered. 

"  Why, —  why,  Auntie, —  I  know  him,"  fell  from  the 
lips  of  one  of  the  trio.  There  was  not  only  surprise 
in  her  voice  but  a  trace  of  awe  as  well. 

The  swabber  looked  up  quickly.  He  found  himself 
gazing  straight  into  the  eyes  of  the  speaker.  Her  lips 
were  parted,  her  head  was  bent  slightly  forward,  her 
eyes  expressed  utter  incredulity  and  bewilderment. 
Her  companion,  an  elderly  lady,  and  a  bespectacled 
young  woman  who  carried  an  arm-load  of  steamer-rugs, 
stared  not  at  him  but  at  the  girl  who  had  delivered 
this  startling  announcement. 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  43 

"  I  mean  I, —  that  is,  I  may  be  mistaken,"  stammered 
the  latter,  suddenly  averting  her  eyes.  A  wave  of 
crimson  swept  over  her  face. 

"  Undoubtedly,"  exclaimed  the  elderly  lady  with  great 
positiveness.  Turning  to  inspect  the  object  under  dis 
cussion,  she  sustained  a  shock  that  caused  her  to  stiffen 
and  draw  in  her  breath  quickly. 

Percival  was  smiling  in  a  most  friendly  and  encour 
aging  manner.  He  went  farther,  and  lifted  his  dis 
reputable  white  canvas  hat. 

"  Oh,  goodness !"  exclaimed  the  young  lady  in  a  sort 
of  panic.  "  Are  you  —  is  it  really  you,  Mr.  Percival?" 

Mr.  Percival  glanced  inquiringly  at  his  guard. 

"  That's  his  name,  Miss,"  said  that  worthy.  "And 
that's  one  of  the  three  reasons  why  he's  got  them  mus 
cular  arms  you're  lookin'  at.  Sorry,  though,  but  my 
orders  are  not  to  allow  any  one  to  speak  to  him." 

"  Are  you  crazy,  Ruth  ?"  cried  the  older  lady,  aghast. 
"  It's  the  stowaway  every  one  is  talking  about.  The 
one  who  tried  to  blow  up  the  ship." 

The  young  lady  returned  Percival's  smile, —  rather 
a  diffident,  uncertain  effort,  to  be  sure,  but  still  a 
smile, —  and  murmured  something  about  night  before 
last  at  the  Alcazar  Grand. 

"  What  are  you  saying,  Ruth?  Do  you  mean  to  say 
you  met  this  man  at  the  Alcazar  Grand?" 

"Yes,  Aunt  Julia,"  said  the  other,  wrinkling  her 
pretty  forehead  in  perplexity.  "  He  —  he  danced  with 
me." 

"  He  —  you  danced  with  him  ?"  gasped  the  horrified 
Aunt  Julia. 

"  Don't  you  remember  ?  Phil  Morton  introduced 
him  to  us.  I  —  I  can't  believe  my  eyes." 

"  I  can't  believe  mine,"  snapped  the  elder  woman. 


44  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

"  I  never  saw  this  fellow  before  in  my  life.  The  idea ! 
Phil  Morton  having  a  friend  like  —  You  are  mistaken. 
And  people  are  staring  at  us." 

"  Just  the  same,"  said  her  niece,  stubbornly,  "  I  did 
dance  with  him,  and,  what's  more,  I  danced  more  than 
once  with  him.  Didn't  I,  Mr.  Percival?" 

Mr.  Percival,  still  beaming,  again  looked  at  the  sailor 
appealingly. 

"  You  can  tell  it  to  me,"  said  the  latter,  furtively 
glancing  to  the  right  and  left  before  making  the  con 
cession. 

Looking  straight  into  the  sailor's  eyes,  Percival  said : 

"  Yes,  Miss  Clinton.  I  had  four  dances  with  you, — 
and  a  lemon  squash." 

"  Wait  a  moment,  Aunt  Julia,"  protested  the  young 
lady,  holding  back.  "  Would  you  mind  telling  me,  Mr. 
Percival,  how  you  happen  to  be  here  and  in  this  plight  ? 
You  didn't  mention  sailing  on  the  Doraine." 

Mr.  Percival,  to  the  sailor :  "  Neither  did  you,  Miss 
Clinton.  You  certainly  are  no  more  surprised  than  I 
am." 

"  Why  are  you  on  board  as  a  stowaway  ?  Phil  Mor 
ton  told  me  you  belong  to  an  old  Baltimore  family  and 
had  all  kinds  of  —  that  is,  you  were  quite  well-off." 

Mr.  Percival,  to  the  sailor :  "  Please  don't  blush, 
Miss  Clinton.  I'm  not  the  least  bit  sensitive.  Money 
isn't  everything.  I  seem  to  be  able  to  get  along  with 
out  it.  Later  on,  I  hope  to  have  the  opportunity  to 
explain  just  why  — " 

"  That'll  do,"  interrupted  the  sailor.  "  Here  comes 
the  Captain." 

Captain  Trigger  hove  in  sight  around  the  corner  of 
the  deck  building,  with  Chief  Engineer  Gray  and  the 
Second  Officer. 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  45 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  make  of  you,"  said  Miss 
Clinton,  sorely  puzzled.  Her  aunt  was  clutching  her 
arm.  "  You  seemed  so  awfully  jolly  the  other  night. 
And  —  and  just  look  at  you  now." 

She  moved  away,  followed  by  the  bespectacled  young 
woman  and  the  steamer-rugs,  graceful  despite  the  sud 
den  yank  with  which  her  aunt  set  her  in  motion.  Per- 
cival  managed  to  keep  an  eye  on  her  till  she  turned  the 
corner.  Then  he  sighed. 

The  Captain  halted  in  front  of  him. 

"  Are  you  acquainted  with  Mrs.  Spoff ord  and  her 
niece,  Percival?"  he  inquired. 

"  Miss  Clinton  has  done  me  the  honour  to  remember 
meeting  me  night  before  last  at  the  Alcazar  Grand, 
sir.  Mrs.  Spofford  is  not  so  generous." 

"  I  see,"  said  Captain  Trigger  reflectively.  "  You 
will  report  at  once  to  Mr.  Gray.  He  will  give  you  a 
less  public  job,  as  you  call  it."  A  twinkle  came  into 
his  eyes.  "  He  doesn't  like  the  hat  you're  wearing. 
Nor  the  shirt.  Nor  the  boots." 

"  Thank  you,  sir." 

"  And,  by  the  way,  Percival,  as  soon  as  you  are 
slightly  refurbished  I  want  you  to  stroll  through  the 
second  cabin  and  if  possible  identify  the  two  stewards 
who  came  to  No.  22.  Let  me  see,  was  it  during  the 
day  or  at  night?" 

"  Some  time  during  the  night,  sir.  Eleven  or  half- 
past,  I  should  say." 

"Very  well." 

An  hour  later  he  reported  to  Captain  Trigger.  "  I 
have  seen  all  of  the  stewards,  sir,  according  to  Mr. 
Codge,  and  I  do  not  recognize  any  of  them  as  the  men 
who  came  to  No.  22.  I  had  a  fairly  good  view  of 


46  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

them,  too,  from  beneath  the  lower  berth*  They  spoke 
in  a  language  I  did  not  understand — " 

"  Do  you  understand  German?" 

"  No,  sir.  I  know  it  when  I  hear  it,  however.  They 
were  not  speaking  German.  I  may  have  been  wrong, 
but  I  came  to  the  conclusion  that  they  were  transfer 
ring  some  one  to  No.  22.  They  brought  in  two  suit 
cases,  and  left  them  when  they  went  out.  I  — " 

Captain  Trigger  brought  his  clenched  fist  down  on 
the  table  with  a  resounding,  emphatic  bang. 

"  Now,  we  have  it !  That  Chicago  detective  is  right, 
by  gad!" 

He  turned  to  the  small  group  of  officers  clustered  be 
hind  him.  Fresh  alarm, —  real  consternation, —  had 
leaped  into  the  eyes  of  every  man  of  them. 

"Then  —  then,  that  means  our  search  isn't  over?" 
cried  Mr.  Mott,  starting  up. 

"  It  does  \  Every  inch  of  this  ship, —  every  damned 
inch  of  it,  from  stem  to  stern.  Overlook  nothing,  Mr. 
Mott.  Don't  delay  a  second." 

Percival  was  alone  with  the  agitated  Captain  an  in 
stant  later.  Trigger's  eyes  were  rather  wild  and  blood 
shot.  The  younger  man's  face  blanched.  He  knew 
now  that  the  danger  was  real.  He  waited  for  the 
Captain  to  speak. 

"  Percival,  the  two  men  you  saw  in  22  were  not  stew 
ards.  They  were  the  men  who  jumped  overboard. 
You  tell  me  they  left  two  bags  there  when  they  went  out 
of  the  room.  Well,  they  were  not  there  this  morning 
when  the  regular  steward  went  into  the  room.  They 
have  disappeared.  But  the  contents  of  those  bags  are 
still  somewhere  on  board  this  ship.  And  if  they  are 
not  found  in  time,  by  gad,  sir,  we  will  all  be  in  Kingdom 
Come  before  we  know  it." 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  first  explosion  occurred  at  eleven  minutes 
past  six.  The  chart-house  and  part  of  the 
bridge  were  blown  to  pieces.  Three  dull, 
splintering  crashes  ensued  in  rapid  succession,  proving 
beyond  question  that  the  bombs  were  set  to  automat 
ically  explode  at  a  given  time.  One  of  them  wrecked 
the  engine-room ;  another  blew  a  great  hole  in  the  stern 
of  the  ship,  above  the  water  line;  the  third  destroyed 
the  wireless  house  and  carried  away  a  portion  of  the 
deck  with  it. 

There  were  eight  in  all  of  these  devilish  machines  in 
the  heart  of  the  Doraine.  Some  time  prior  to  the  first 
explosion,  the  feverish  searchers  had  uncovered  four 
of  them,  cunningly  planted  in  the  most  vital  parts  of 
the  ship.  Two  were  taken  from  the  lower  hold,  one  at 
each  end  of  the  vessel,  and  two  more  were  found  close 
to  the  carefully  protected  section  of  the  vessel  in  which 
a  rather  insignificant  but  deadly  shipment  of  high  ex 
plosives  was  stored. 

The  discovery  of  the  four  bombs  and  their  immediate 
consignment  to  the  sea  saved  the  ship  from  being  blown 
to  bits.  With  another  hour  to  spare,  it  is  more  than 
probable  the  remaining  four  would  have  been  found, 
notwithstanding  the  amazing  cleverness  with  which  they 
were  hidden,  so  thorough  and  so  dogged  was  the  search. 
Confusion,  terror,  stupefaction  and  finally  panic  fol 
lowed  the  successive  blasts.  The  decks  were  strewn 
with  people  prostrated  by  the  violent  upheavals,  and 
many  there  were  who  never  got  up  again.  Stunned, 

47 


48  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

dazed,  bewildered,  those  who  were  able  to  do  so  scram 
bled  to  their  feet  only  to  be  hurled  down  again  and 
again.  Shrieks,  groans,  prayers, —  and  curses, —  filled 
the  brief,  ghastly  silences  between  the  muffled  detona 
tions.  The  great  vessel  surged  and  rolled  and  plunged 
like  a  tortured  animal. 

The  splintering  of  wood,  the  rending  of  plates,  the 
shattering  of  glass,  and  above  all  this  horrid  turmoil 
the  mighty  roaring  and  hissing  of  steam !  .  .  .  And  the 
wild,  gurgling  cries  of  the  frantic  unfortunates  who  had 
leaped  into  the  sea ! 

Out  of  the  chaos  with  incredible  swiftness  came  the 
paralysis  of  despair,  and  out  of  that  slowly  but  surely 
groped  the  never-failing  courage  of  the  men  who  go 
down  to  the  sea  in  ships.  Hoarse  commands  lifted 
above  the  groans  and  prayers,  and  strong  but  shaken 
figures  sprang  with  mechanical  precision  to  the  posts 
allotted  them.  Life-boat  after  life-boat  went  down  into 
the  sea  that  glistened  with  the  slanting  rays  of  an  un 
troubled  sun,  low-lying  at  the  end  of  day. 

Fire  broke  out  in  several  places.  Down  into  the 
bowels  of  the  ship  plunged  the  resolute,  undaunted 
heroes  who  remained  behind,  the  chosen  complement  re 
served  for  just  such  an  emergency  by  the  far-seeing 
master. 

Above  the  hissing  of  steam  and  the  first  feeble  crack 
lings  of  flame,  rose  the  stentorian  voice  of  the  Captain 
from  his  post  at  the  base  of  the  demolished  bridge. 

"Fight,  men!  Fight!  Fight!  There  are  dying 
men  below !  Stand  by !  Fight  for  them !" 

He  was  bloody  and  almost  unrecognizable  as  he  stood 
there  clutching  a  stanchion  for  support.  His  legs  were 
rigid,  his  body  swayed,  but  his  spirit  was  as  staunch 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  40 

as  the  star  that  had  guided  him  for  fifty  years  through 
the  trackless  waste. 

And  while  these  doughty,  desperate  spirits  fought 
the  fire  and  smoke  with  every  means  at  their  command, 
down  in  the  suffocating  depths  of  the  ship,  braving  not 
only  the  peril  visible  and  at  hand,  but  the  prospect  of 
annihilation  in  the  event  that  a  belated  bomb  projected 
its  hideous  force  into  the  nest  of  high  explosives, — 
while  these  men  fought,  the  smiling,  placid  sea  was 
alive  with  small  white  craft  that  bobbed  in  the  gleaming 
sunlight,  life-boats  crowded  to  the  gunwales  with  shud 
dering,  bleak-eyed  men,  women  and  children  waiting  to 
pick  up  those  who  stayed  behind,  and  who  inevitably 
would  be  driven  overboard  by  the  resistless,  conquering 
flames. 

Cruising  about  at  a  safe  distance  from  the  menac 
ing  hull,  these  boats  managed  to  rescue  a  few  of  the 
beings  who  had  leaped  overboard  in  the  first  mad  panic 
of  fear,  but  many  there  were  who  went  down  never  to 
be  seen  again.  No  boat  was  without  its  wounded  — 
and  its  dead ;  no  boat  was  without  its  stricken,  anxious- 
eyed  survivors  who  watched  and  prayed  for  the  salva 
tion  of  loved  ones  left  behind.  With  straining  eyes 
they  searched  the  surface  of  the  sea,  peered  at  the  occu 
pants  of  near  and  distant  boats,  stared  at  the  scurry 
ing  figures  on  the  decks  of  the  smoking  steamer,  hop 
ing, —  always  hoping, —  and  always  sobbing  out  the 
endless  prayer. 

At  last,  as  the  sun  sank  below  the  blue-black  horizon, 
exhausted,  red-eyed,  gasping  men  struggled  up  from 
the  drenched,  .smothering  interior  *of  the  ship,  and 
hurled  themselves,  not  into  the  sea,  but  prone  upon  the 
decks !  They  had  conquered !  The  scattered,  vagrant 


50  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

fires,  attacked  in  their  infancy,  while  still  in  the  creep 
ing  stage,  had  been  subdued. 

Darkness  fell.  A  chill  night  air  stole  <r. :i  of  the 
east,  stealthily  trailing  the  sun.  Will-o'-the  wisp  lights 
bespecked  the  sea,  surrounding  the  black  hulk  that  lay 
motionless  in  the  center  of  the  circle.  Lanterns  in  a 
score  or  more  of  small  boats  bobbed  fitfully  in  the  gen 
tle  swell.  Presently  lights  appeared  on  board  the 
Dorain-e,  one  here,  one  there,  then  others  in  twos  and 
threes, —  some  of  them  stationary,  others  moving  slowly 
from  place  to  place.  The  life-boats  crept  closer,  still 
closer.  Then,  out  from  the  silent  hulk,  came  the  voice 
of  man.  It  was  the  voice  of  the  First  Officer,  hoarse 
and  unrecognizable,  but  sharp  with  authority.  Other 
voices  repeated  the  commands  from  various  parts  of 
the  ship, —  commands  to  the  encircling  will-o'-the-wisps. 

The  word  came  down  to  the  scores  who  filled  the 
boats  that  they  were  to  lie  by  until  sunrise,  keeping  in 
close  contact  with  each  other  and  at  no  great  distance 
from  the  ship.  The  most  thorough,  careful  examina 
tion  of  the  steamer  was  in  progress.  If  it  was  found 
that  she  was»in  no  danger  of  foundering, —  and  the  word 
was  most  reassuring, —  all  of  them  would  be  taken 
aboard  in  the  morning.  Nothing  could  be  done  at  pres 
ent.  A  few  hours  more  would  tell  the  tale. 

And  then,  for  the  first  time  since  the  disaster,  the 
note  of  the  croaker  was  heard.  Each  and  every  boat 
contained  at  least  one  individual  who  knew  exactly  what 
ought  to  be  done  in  a  crisis  like  this. 

Mr.  Landover  addressed  the  benumbed,  unresisting 
occupants  of  the  boat  into  which  he  had  climbed  with 
commendable  reluctance  as  one  of  the  last  persons  to 
leave  the  ship. 

"Why  don't  they  begin  sending  out  S.  O.  S.  «alls? 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  51 

What's  the  wireless  for,  if  not  to  be  used  at  a  time 
like  this?  Say,  yvu!  Yell  up  there  to  some  of  those 
damned  muddled-headed  idiots  and  tell  them  what  to 
do.  Tell  them  that  I  say  for  them  to  send  out  calls 
for  help.  What's  that?  What  did  you  say?" 

The  steward  in  charge  of  the  boat  repeated  his  re 
mark  and  Mr.  Landover  at  once  said  he  would  report 
him  to  Captain  Trigger. 

"  But  it  won't  do  any  good,"  complained  the  banker 
despairingly.  "  Captain  Trigger  hasn't  got  the  back 
bone  of  a  fish  worm.  He'd  let  you  tell  him  to  go  to  hell 
and  never  think  of  jacking  you  up  for  it.  No  wonder 
we're  in  the  fix  we're  in  now.  If  he'd  had  the  sense  of 
a  jelly-fish  he'd  have  —  Here!  Sit  still!  You'll  upset 
the  boat,  you  fool !  What  —  What  are  you  going  to 
do  with  that  oar?" 

"  I'm  going  to  crack  you  over  the  bean  with  it  if 
you  don't  take  back  what  you  said  about  Captain  Trig 
ger,"  said  the  steward,  very  earnestly.  "  Take  it  back, 
do  you  hear  me?" 

"  My  God,  would  you  murder  me  for  a  little  thing 
like  that?" 

Mr.  Nicklestick  aroused  himself  from  the  torpor  of 
despair. 

"  Take  it  back,  Mr.  Landover, —  please  do.  If  he 
misses  you,  he'll  get  me  sure,  it's  so  dark,  and  so  help 
me  God  I  got  nothing  but  the  deepest  respect  for  Cap 
tain  Trigger.  He's  a  vonderful  man,  steward.  Don't 
make  any  mistake.  You  hear  me  say  he  is  a  vonderful 
man?  Veil,—  " 

"  Oh,  shut  up,  Nicklestick,"  grated  Landover,  crouch 
ing  down  behind  the  gentleman  addressed. 

The  steward  sat  down.  "  I'd  do  it  in  a  minute  if  it 
wasn't  for  the  women  an'  children  in  this  boat." 


52  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

"  I  intend  to  have  every  officer  on  that  steamer  ar 
rested  for  criminal  negligence  the  instant  I  set  foot  in 
New  York,"  boomed  the  banker.  "  I  call  upon  every 
one  of  you,  my  fellow-passengers,  to  testify  to  the  ut 
ter  lack  of  precaution  taken  by  the  men  in  charge  of 
that  ship.  And  what  effort  are  they  making  to  bring 
help  to  us  now?  By  gad,  if  I  was  in  command  of  that 
vessel  I'd  be  shooting  wireless  calls  to  ever}*  —  Great 
Scott!  What's  that?" 

"  That's  a  rocket,  you  blamed  old  fool !  "  roared  the 
steward. 

"  Good  God ! "  gasped  the  exasperated  banker. 
"  Are  we  having  a  celebration  with  fireworks  ?  " 

The  dull,  hapless  occupants  of  the  lifeboats  watched 
with  fascinated  eyes  the  first  of  the  giant  rockets  that 
whizzed  and  roared  its  way  up  from  the  deck  of  the 
ship,  an  endless  arrow  of  fire  piercing  the  night.  A 
loud  report,  the  scattering  of  a  hundred  stars,  and 
then  —  denser  blackness  than  before. 

Morning  came.  Up  out  of  the  east  stole  a  sickly 
grey.  It  turned  slowly  into  pink,  and  then  suddenly 
the  sea  once  more  was  blue  and  smiling.  In  the  heart 
of  the  dancing  cordon  lay  the  weirdly  camouflaged 
Doraine,  inert,  sinister,  as  still  and  cold  as  death.  No 
smoke  issued  from  her  stacks  to  cheer  the  wretched 
watchers ;  no  foam,  no  spray  leaped  from  her  mighty 
bow.  She  was  a  great,  lifeless  thing.  Waves  lapped 
gently  against  her  sides  and  fell  away  only  to  come 
back  again  in  playful  scorn  for  the  vast  object  that 
had  rent  and  baffled  them  so  long.  On  high  fluttered 
the  Stars  and  Stripes,  gay  in  the  presence  of  death, 
a  sprightly  harbinger  of  hope  flaunting  defiance  in  the 
face  of  despair. 

Men,  stripped  to  the  waist,  grimy  and  shining  with 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  55 


the  sweat  of  hours,  moving  about  in  knots  of  three 
four,  —  always  in  knots  of  three  or  four  as  if  afraid 
to  disintegrate  —  leaned  upon  the  rail  and  watched  the 
approach  of  the  crowded  boats,  looked  down  into  pal 
lid,  anguished  faces  with  their  eager,  hungr  ;  y«s 

that  devoured  the  groups  along  the  rail.     Now   and 
then  a  glad  shout  of  joy  went  up  from  one  of  the  br 
and  a  figure  in  the  huddled  mass  was  transformed  into 
a  responsive  thing  of  life, 

In  each  of  the  square,  black  openings  in  the  hull  of 
the  ship  stood  men  with  ropes  and  ladders.  The  great 
steel  doors  lav  flat  against  the  sides,  swung  wide  to 
admit  this  time  a  human  cargo.  From  the  interior  of 
the  vessel  came  the  brisk,  incessant  clatter  of  hammers 
against  wood  and  steel  ;  from  the  decks  broke  the  loud, 
commanding  voices  of  men  calling  out  directions  ;  from 
the  gliding,  slapping  boats  went  up  the  hearty  shouts 
of  understanding  and  obedience,  the  rattling  of  boat- 
hooks,  the  grinding  of  oars  in  the  locks,  the  murmur 
of  voices  revived. 

men   and   children   first  !  "   was   the   shrill,   oft- 
repeated  exhortation  from  one  of  the  boats. 

And  up  in  the  centre  of  another  sprang  a  fine,  im 
posing  figure,  from  whose  lips  rolled  these  thrilling 
words  : 

"  By  God,  they're  great  !  They're  great,  after  all  ! 
God  bless  Captain  Trigger  and  every  man-  jack  of 
them!" 

"  uet  down!"  roared  his  still  unpacified  critic,  the 
steward.  "  You'll  fall  overboard,  you  dam*  fool  !  " 

The  gaunt,  coat.less  Mr.  Mott  commanded  the  port 
side  of  the  vessel  :  Mr.  Codge.  the  purser,  the  starboard. 
Fighting  men  in  the  breeches  and  leggings  of  the  Amer 
ican  Navy:  blackened  aiul  bandaged  stokers,  sailors 


54  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

and  landsmen  comprised  the  motley  company  that  stood 
ready  to  drag  the  occupants  of  the  boats  up  into  the 
dank,  smoke-scented  maw  of  the  ship. 

One  by  one,  in  regular,  systematic  order,  the  life 
boats  came  alongside.  There  was  no  confusion,  no 
bungling.  They  bumped  gently  against  the  towering 
rows  of  plates,  and,  made  fast  by  ropes  with  ample 
play,  gave  up  in  time  their  precious  cargoes.  No  one 
lifted  up  his  voice  in  rejoicing,  for  there  were  dead  and 
injured  back  in  the  shadows;  there  were  grief -stricken, 
anxious  men  and  women  crouching  out  there  in  the  sun 
shine;  there  were  limp,  unconscious  women  and  half- 
dead  children ;  and  over  all  still  hung  the  ominous  cloud 
of  catastrophe  fat  with  prophecies  of  perils  yet  to 
come. 

They  had  gone  out  from  a  ship  filled  with  a  mon 
strous  clangour  and  confusion,  they  were  returning 
to  a  tomblike  hulk,  a  lonely  mass  in  which  echoes  would 
abound,  a  thing  of  sighs  and  silences,  the  corpse  of  a 
mammoth  that  had  throbbed  yesterday, —  but  never 
more. 

Up  in  the  curving  triangle  of  the  forward  deck  were 
two  long,  canvas-covered  rows.  The  dead !  Forty-six 
twisted,  silent  forms  lying  side  by  side,  some  calm  in 
death,  others  charred  and  mutilated  beyond  all  possi 
bility  of  identification.  Every  man  in  the  engine-room 
at  the  time  of  the  explosion  was  now  a  mangled,  un 
recognizable  thing.  Engineers,  electricians,  stokers, — 
all  of  them  wiped  out  in  the  flash  of  an  eye, —  burnt, 
boiled,  shattered.  Half  a  dozen  women,  as  many  chil 
dren,  lay  with  the  silent  men. 

The  injured  had  been  placed  in  staterooms  on  the 
promenade  deck,  regardless  of  previous  occupancy  or 
subsequent  claim.  There  lay  the  score  and  a  half  of 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  55 

seriously  injured,  and  there  toiled  the  ship's  surgeon 
and  his  volunteer  helpers.  Sailor  and  merchant,  worker 
and  idler,  scholar  and  dolt,  steerage  and  first  cabin, 
wealth  and  poverty,  shared  alike  in  the  disposition  of 
quarters  and  shared  alike  in  attention.  There  was  no 
discrimination.  One  life  was  as  good  as  another  to 
the  doctor  and  his  men,  the  poor  man's  moan  as  full 
of  suffering  as  that  of  the  rich  man,  the  wail  of  the 
steerage  woman  as  piteous  as  that  of  her  sister  above. 

Captain  Trigger  was  one  of  the  injured.  He  swore 
a  great  deal  when  the  doctor  ordered  him  to  bed.  Ribs 
and  a  broken  arm?  Why  the  devil  should  he  be  put 
to  bed  for  something  a  schoolboy  would  laugh  at?  Mr. 
Shannon  and  two  of  the  younger  officers  were  killed 
by  the  explosion  that  wrecked  the  bridge  and  chart 
house.  Chief  Engineer  Gray  died  in  the  engine-room. 
Cruise  was  blown  to  pieces  in  the  wireless  house.  His 
assistant,  the  cripple  with  the  charmed  life,  was  dead. 

A  few  seconds  before  the  first  explosion  took  place 
he  blew  out  his  brains  with  a  big  navy  revolver.  The 
last  seen  of  Cruise  was  when  he  appeared  in  the  door 
of  his  station,  an  expression  of  mingled  rage  and  alarm 
on  his  face.  Pointing  frantically  at  the  figure  of  his 
assistant  as  it  shot  down  the  steps  and  across  the  deck, 
he  shouted: 

"Get  that  man!  Get  him!  For  God's  sake,  get 
him!" 

It  all  happened  in  a  few  seconds  of  time.  The  shrill 
laugh  of  the  fleeing  assistant,  the  report  of  the  re 
volver,  an  instant  of  stupefaction, —  and  then  the  dull, 
grinding  crash. 

It  will  never  be  known  what  Cruise  had  heard  or 
seen  in  the  last  moments  of  his  life.  No  one  on  board 
the  Doraine,  however,  doubted  for  an  instant  that  he 


56  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

had  discovered,  too  late,  the  truth  about  his  misshapen 
assistant.  They  now  knew  with  almost  absolute  cer 
tainty  the  identity  of  the  odd  man  in  that  devilish  trio, 
the  man  whose  footsteps  Percival  had  heard,  the  man 
who  stayed  behind  to  guarantee  the  consummation  of 
the  hideous  plot.  Coward  in  the  end,  he  shirked  the 
death  he  was  pledged  to  accept.  He  knew  what  was 
coming.  Unlike  his  braver  comrades,  he  took  the  sim 
plest  way. 

The  count  began.  Late  in  the  afternoon  it  was  com 
pleted.  There  were  forty-six  known  dead  on  board  the 
Doraine,  the  majority  being  members  of  the  crew. 
Seventeen  persons  were  missing,  chiefly  from  the  steer 
age.  Twenty -nine  seriously  injured  were  under  the 
doctor's  care.  Some  of  them  would  not  recover.  A 
hundred  or  more  persons  suffered  from  shock,  bruises, 
cuts  and  exposure,  but  only  a  few  of  them  required  or 
demanded  attention.  In  spite  of  their  injuries,  they 
fell  to  with  the  spirit  that  makes  for  true  heroism  and 
devoted  themselves  to  the  care  of  the  less  fortunate, 
or  to  the  assistance  of  the  sorely-tried  officers  and  men 
who  strove  to  bring  order  out  of  chaos. 

Among  the  survivors  were  two  American  surgeons 
and  a  physician  from  Rio  Janeiro.  They,  with  the 
nurses,  all  of  whom  had  been  saved,  immediately  went 
to  the  relief  of  the  ship's  doctor,  and  in  short  order  an 
improvised  hospital  was  established.  There  was  a  re 
markable  unanimity  of  self-sacrifice  among  the  passen 
gers.  High  and  low,  they  fell  to  in  a  frenzy  of  com 
radeship,  and  worked  side  by  side  in  whatsoever  ca 
pacity  they  were  needed,  whether  fitted  for  it  or  not. 
No  man,  no  woman,  who  was  able  to  lift  a  helping  hand, 
failed  in  this  hour  of  need.  The  bereaved,  as  well  as 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  57 

those  who  were  untouched  by  a  personal  grief,  gave 
all  that  was  in  them,  tearfully,  grimly,  ardently. 

Menial  labour  fell  to  the  lot  of  the  lordly  but  un 
complaining  Landover,  to  Block  and  Nicklestick,  Jones, 
and  Snipe,  and  even  to  the  precious  Signer  Joseppi, 
who,  forgetting  his  Caruso-like  throat,  toiled  and 
sweated  in  the  smoky  saloon. 

Morris  Shine,  the  motion  picture  magnate,  the  while- 
he  laboured  amidst  the  wreckage  of  the  after  deck,  la 
mented  not  the  cheerless  task  but  the  evil  fate  that 
prevented  the  making  of  the  most  spectacular  film  the 
world  had  ever  known. 

Madame  Careni-Amori,  Madame  Obosky  and  her 
dancers;  bejewelled  Jewesses  and  half -clad  emigrants;; 
gentle  women  unused  to  toil  and  women  who  were  born- 
to  it ;  the  old  and  the  young  —  all  of  them,  without 
exception, —  rose  from  the  depths  of  despair  and  faced 
the  rigours  of  the  day  with  unflinching  courage,  gave 
out  of  a  limitless  store  of  tenderness  all  that  their 
strength  could  spare. 

And  through  a  neglected,  abandoned  field  of  pearls- 
and  gold  and  precious  stones,  limped  unchallenged  the 
tireless  figure  of  "  Soapy "  Shay,  diamond  thief,  a 
bloody  bandage  about  his  head,  an  exalted  light  in  his 
pain-stricken  eyes.  His  one-time  captor  lay  stark 
and  cold  in  the  gruesome  line  in  the  bow  of  the  boat. 
It  was  "  Soapy  "  Shay  who  staggered  out  of  the  rack 
and  smoke  with  the  burly,  stricken  detective  in  his 
arms,  and  it  was  "  Soapy  "  Shay  who  wept  when  the 
last  breath  of  life  eased  out  through  his  tortured  lips. 
For  of  all  the  company  on  board  the  Doraine,  there 
was  but  one  whom  "  Soapy  "  knew,  but  one  who  called 
him  by  name  and  shared  tobacco  with  him, —  and  that 


58  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

one  was  William  Spinney,  the  man  who  was  taking  him 
back  to  a  place  where  mercy  would  not  be  shown. 

After  the  sun  had  set  and  the  decks  were  dark  and 
deserted  except  for  the  men  employed  in  the  gruesome 
business,  the  dead  were  lowered  into  the  sea,  swathed 
in  canvas  and  weighted  with  things  that  were  made  to 
kill, —  shells  from  the  gunners'  hoard.  Swiftly,  me 
thodically,  one  after  the  other,  they  slid  down  to  the 
black,  greedy  waters,  sank  to  the  grave  that  is  never 
still  yet  always  silent,  to  the  vast,  unexplored  wilder 
ness  that  stretches  around  the  world.  The  thin  little 
missionary  from  the  barren  plateaus  of  Patagonia  and 
the  plump  priest  from  the  heart  of  Buenos  Aires 
monotonously  commended  each  and  every  one  of  them 
to  the  mercy  of  God ! 

The  sun  came  up  again  in  the  morning  over  a  smil 
ing,  happy  sea  that  licked  the  sides  of  the  Dorame 
with  the  tenderness  of  a  dog. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  plight  of  the  hapless  steamer  could  not  be 
disguised.  Even  the  most  ignorant  passen 
ger  knew  that  the  wrecked  engines  could  not 
be  repaired  or  compounded.  They  knew  that  the  Do- 
raine  was  completely  paralysed.  The  power  to  move 
at  will  was  for  ever  lost,  the  force  that  had  driven 
her  resistlessly  along  the  chosen  path  was  still.  The 
powerful  propellers  were  idle,  the  huge  stern-post 
wrenched  so  badly  that  the  rudder  was  useless.  She 
was  adrift,  helplessly  adrift.  Of  what  avail  the  wheel 
and  a  patched-up  rudder  to  the  mass  that  lay  inert, 
motionless  on  the  smiling  sea? 

Every  one  on  board  realized,  with  sinking  heart,  that 
the  Doraine  was  to  go  on  drifting,  drifting  no  man 
knew  whither,  until  she  crossed  the  path  of  a  friendly 
stranger  out  there  in  the  mighty  waste.  No  cry  of  dis 
tress,  no  call  for  help  could  go  crackling  into  the 
boundless  reaches.  That  was  the  plight  of  the  Doraine 
and  her  people  on  the  mocking  day  that  followed  the 
disaster,  and  unless  fate  intervened  that  would  be  her 
plight  for  days  without  end. 

Mr.  Mott,  temporarily  in  command,  addressed  the 
passengers  in  the  main  saloon,  where  they  had  congre 
gated  at  his  request.  He  did  not  mince  matters.  He 
stated  the  situation  plainly.  It  was  best  that  they 
should  realize,  that  they  should  understand,  that  they 
should  know  the  truth,  in  order  that  they  might  adapt 
themselves  to  the  conditions  he  was  now  compelled  of 

59 


<60  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

-necessity  to  impose  upon  them.  They  were,  so  to 
speak,  occupying  a  derelict.  Help  might  come  before 
nightfall,  it  might  not  come  for  days.  He  hoped  for 
the  best  but  he  intended  to  prepare  for  the  worst. 

Without  apology  he  laid  down  a  rigid  set  of  rules, 
and  from  these  rules,  he  made  it  perfectly  clear,  there 
could  be  no  deviation.  The  available  supply  of  food 
was  limited.  It  was  his  purpose  to  conserve  it  with 
^the  greatest  possible  care.  Down  in  the  holds,  of 
course,  was  a  vast  store  of  consigned  foodstuffs,  but 
he  had  no  authority  to  draw  upon  it  and  would  not  do 
so  unless  the  ship's  own  stock  was  exhausted.  Passen 
gers  and  crew,  therefore,  would  be  obliged  to  go  on 
short  rations.  Better  to  eat  sparingly  now,  he  said, 
than  not  to  eat  at  all  later  on.  He  concluded  his  re 
marks  in  this  fashion : 

"  Remember  that  we  are  all  in  the  same  boat.  We 
don't  know  how  long  we'll  be  drifting  like  this  and  we 
don't  know  where  we're  drifting  to.  It's  an  everlast 
ingly  big  ocean  we're  on.  We  ought  to  thank  God 
we're  not  at  the  bottom  of  it  now.  If  we're  lucky 
we'll  be  picked  up  soon,  if  not, —  well,  it's  up  to  us, 
every  one  of  us,  to  make  the  best  of  it.  We're  alive, 
and  that's  certainly  something.  We'll  all  find  it  easier 
if  we  keep  ourselves  busy.  That's  why  I'm  asking  you, 
one  and  all,  to  do  a  good  day's  work  regularly,  one 
way  or  another,  from  now  until  relief  comes.  We  can't 
have  any  loafers  or  quitters  on  board  this  ship.  That 
means  everybody,  rich  and  poor.  You  may  think  I'm 
putting  a  hardship  on  you,  seeing  as  how  you  have  paid 
for  your  passage  and  all  that,  but  what  I'm  ordering 
you  to  do  ain't  a  marker  to  what  you'd  be  doing  if 
you  were  out  there  in  lifeboats,  eight  hundred  miles 
from  shore,  and  —  well,  we  won't  go  into  that.  We've 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  61 

got  to  make  the  best  of  it,  my  friends.  We're  up 
against  it  good  and  plenty,  that's  the  plain  facts  of  the 
case.  There's  no  use  in  me  saying  it's  all  going  to 
turn  out  right  in  a  day  or  so,  because  I  don't  know  a 
da  —  a  blamed  thing  about  it.  We're  in  God's  hands. 
Maybe  it  will  help  to  pray,  but  I  doubt  it.  All  I've 
got  to  say  is  this :  go  down  on  your  knees  as  much  as. 
you  like,  but  don't  kick!  " 

Signer  Joseppi  lifted  his  voice,  but  not  in  song.  In 
very  bad  English  he  wanted  to  know  how  long  the  Cap 
tain  thought  it  would  be  before  they  were  rescued,  and 
when  he  was  informed  that  it  might  not  be  for  weeks. 
or  even  months,  he  cried  out  in  wTorse  English  that  he 
was  ruined.  He  would  have  to  violate  his  contract! 
No  impressario  would  think  of  engaging  him  again  t 
His  wonderful  American  tour!  If  he  was  not  rescued 
within  a  week  —  Oh,  my  God,  the  consequences  !  He 
did  not  regret  the  paltry  two  thousand  a  week  —  for 
thirty  weeks  —  but  to  violate  a  contract ! 

Mr.  Mott  looked  rather  helpless.  He  appreciated 
the  fact  that  Signer  Joseppi  was  a  very  great  per 
sonage,  but  what  was  he  saying?  Was  it  —  could  it 
be  mutiny? 

"  I'm  sorry,  Mr.  Joseppi,"  he  broke  in,  "  but  if 
Madame  Amori  is  willing  to  take  h£r  regular  turn  at 
making  up  berths,  I  guess  it  won't  hurt  you  to  help 
every  now  and  then  in  the  dining-room." 

Signer  Joseppi  did  not  understand  a  word  of  it.  He 
turned  to  the  man  at  his  elbow  for  enlightenment. 

"  What  did  he  say?  "  he  whispered. 

"  He  says  you  have  a  perfectly  marvellous  voice  and 
that  he'd  give  two  thousand  any  time  to  hear  you 
sing,"  replied  his  neighbour  in  excellent  Italian. 

Whereupon  the  Signor  favoured  the  severe-looking 


62  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

Mr.  Mott  with  a  beaming  smile  and  as  deep  a  bow  as 
he  could  make  in  such  close  quarters. 

"  A  most  courteous  officer,"  he  said  to  his  neigh 
bour.  "  It  will  be  a  joy  to  serve  him,  my  friend.  We 
should,  one  and  all,  do  what  he  asks  of  us,  no  matter 
how  mean  the  task.  I,  Joseppi, —  you  have  heard  of 
Joseppi,  my  friend  ?  —  I  shall  be  the  example  for  all 
of  you.  Should  he  say,  '  Wash  the  dishes,  Joseppi,' 
then  will  I  wash  the  dishes,  I,  Joseppi,  who  never 
washed  a  dish  in  his  life.  Should  he  say,  '  Cook  the 
meals,  Joseppi,'  then  will  Joseppi,  who  never  cooked  a 
thing  in  his  life,  then  will  Joseppi  cook  the  meals. 
Should  he  say,  *  Joseppi,  scrub  the  floor,'  then  will 
I  scrub  the  floor.  Should  he  say,  *  Signer,  steer  the 
ship,'  then  will  I  do  my  best  to  steer  the  ship,  I  who 
have  never  steered  a  ship.  So  I  Let  me  be  your  ex 
ample,  my  friend." 

"  That's  fine,"  said  his  neighbour,  as  they  moved  off 
together.  "  But  supposing  he  asks  you  to  sing  occa 
sionally  to  amuse  the  rest  of  us, —  what  then?  " 

"  Amuse?  "  cried  the  Signor.     "  Amuse?  " 

"  Well,  then,  entertain." 

The  great  Joseppi  pursed  his  lips.  His  brows  greV 
dark  with  trouble. 

"  Ah,  but  that  would  be  violating  my  contract,"  he 
said.  "  My  contract  specifically  states  that  under  no 
circumstances  may  I — "  Then  suddenly,  as  if  re 
nouncing  a  sacred  principle,  his  brow  cleared,  and  he 
cried  out :  "  Damn  the  contract !  Joseppi's  voice  is 
his  own.  Joseppi  will  do  as  he  pleases  with  it.  Let 
him  but  make  the  request,  my  friend, —  and  Joseppi 
will  sing  till  he  drops  from  exhaustion."  Lowering  his 
voice  to  a  confidential  undertone,  he  went  on :  "  And 
that,  my  friend,  is  more  than  you  will  find  Careni- 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  63 

Amori  willing  to  do.  There  is  one  cold-blooded,  grasp 
ing  woman  for  you.  Money !  She  thinks  of  nothing 
but  money.  And  flattery!  Ah,  how  she  thrives  on 
flattery.  That  woman,  my  friend,  beautiful  as  she  is, 
has  no  more  heart  than  a  — " 

"  Excuse  me,  please,"  broke  in  his  listener,  in  Eng 
lish.  "  I've  got  to  beat  it." 

He  had  caught  sight  of  a  slim  young  figure  at  the 
head  of  the  stairs, —  a  girl  in  a  rumpled  blue  serge 
tailor-suit  and  a  tan-coloured  sport  hat  pulled  well 
down  over  her  dark  hair.  He  made  his  way  through 
the  crowd  and  caught  her  up  as  she  passed  out  on  the 
deck. 

"  I've  been  terribly  worried  about  you,"  he  began 
without  other  greeting,  planting  himself  in  front  of  her. 
"  I  thought  maybe  you  might  have  —  but,  thank  the 
good  Lord,  you  weren't." 

She  looked  momentarily  bewildered.  Then  she  rec 
ognized  him  and  held  out  her  hand.  Her  face  was  se 
rious,  unsmiling,  her  voice  low  and  tired. 

"Isn't  it  dreadful,  Mr.  Percival?  What  a  terrible 
experience  it  has  been.  Oh  —  and  I  am  glad  you  came 
through  safely,  too.  But  — "  as  her  eyes  narrowed 
anxiously, — "  you  were  hurt.  Your  hands  ?  " 

"  I  can't  very  well  shake  hands  with  you,  Miss  Clin 
ton,"  said  he.  "  Scorched  a  little,  that's  all.  You'd 
think  it  was  serious,  the  way  they're  bandaged.  One  of 
the  sailors  fixed  them  up  for  me  last  night.  I  can't 
tell  you  how  glad  I  am  that  you  are  all  right.  And 
your  aunt  ?  Is  she  — "  He  paused. 

"  Auntie  is  all  right,  Mr.  Percivai.  She's  in  bed. 
Shock  and  exposure.  We  were  out  there  all  night.  In 
one  of  the  boats.  Katherine, — "  her  her  voice  shook  a 
little, — "  Katherine  is  gone.  She  leaped  overboard. 


64  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

I  —  I  saw  her  go.  I  shall  never  forget  it, —  never. 
Aunt  Julia's  maid.  For,  oh,  so  many  years,  Mr. 
Percival."  She  spoke  in  sharp,  broken  sentences, 
as  if  breathless.  "  You  must  have  been  terribly 
burned.  Your  hair, —  your  eyes,  how  bloodshot  they 


are." 


"  Smoke,"  he  said  succinctly.  "  Singed  on  this  side 
only.  Really  nothing  serious.  I  got  off  very  lightly." 

"  Some  of  the  men  were  frightfully  burned,"  she  said 
with  a  shudder.  "  I  am  trying  to  be  a  nurse.  There 
are  two  men  in  my  —  in  my  — " 

"  I  know,"  he  broke  in  hastily.  "  Don't  talk  about 
it,  Miss  Clinton.  It's  corking  of  you  to  take  hold  like 
this.  Corking !  " 

"  Tell  me  about  yourself.  Where  were  you  when  it 
happened  ?  " 

"  I  hate  to  admit  it,  but  I  was  having  a  bite  to  eat 
down  in  the  galley.  You  see,  they'd  somehow  forgot 
ten  to  give  me  anything  to  eat, —  in  the  excitement,  of 
course, —  and  I  had  been  so  busy  myself  it  didn't  occur 
to  me  to  be  hungry  till  rather  late  in  the  day.  I  man 
aged  to  get  on  deck  but  not  until  after  the  bombs  had 
all  gone  off.  My  friend,  Mr.  Gray, —  the  Chief  En 
gineer,  you  know, —  was  down  in  the  engine-room. 
That's  how  I  got  my  hands  burned.  Not  badly,  I  as 
sure  you,  but  —  well,  they  may  be  a  little  scarred. 
You  may  not  know  it,  but  Mr.  Gray  and  I  came  from 
the  same  place.  Baltimore.  He  belonged  to  a  fine 
old  family  there  —  and  he'd  been  very  kind  to  me. 
Poor  fellow!  Penned  in.  They  never  had  a  chance 
down  there.  He  was  —  well,  he  died  a  few  minutes 
after  he  was  dragged  out  here  on  the  deck.  His  clothes 
were  on  fire.  But  let's  not  talk  about  it.  Tell  me,  is 
there  anything  I  can  do  to  make  you  more  comfort- 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  65 

able  ?  Or  your  aunt  ?  I'm  what  you  might  call  officer 
of  the  deck  at  present.  Mr.  Mott  — " 

"  You  ought  to  be  in  bed,  Mr.  Percival,"  she  inter 
rupted  sharply.  "  Your  face  is  burned,  too, —  you 
must  be  suffering  terribly.  Wait!  Now  don't  tell  me 
you  are  not.  I  know  better.  I've  seen  those  other 
men  who  were  burned.  I  — " 

"  It's  nothing,  I  tell  you,"  he  interrupted,  almost 
roughly.  "  There  are  dozens  of  men  worse  off  than  I 
am,  and  are  they  in  bed?  Not  much.  This  is  no  time 
to  lie  down,  Miss  Clinton,  if  you've  got  a  leg  to  stand 
on.  See  that  little  chap  over  there  with  his  head  and 
hands  covered  with  bandages, —  and  barely  able  to  drag 
his  feet  after  him  ?  He's  an  American  j  ockey .  I  don't 
know  his  name.  He  was  blown  twenty  or  thirty  feet 
across  the  after-deck.  Brought  up  at  the  bottom  of 
a  companion-way.  He's  nothing  but  cuts  and  bruises 
from  head  to  foot.  But  he's  around  on  his  wobbly  lit 
tle  pins  today,  just  the  same,  trying  to  edge  in  on  some 
sort  of  a  job.  Couldn't  keep  him  in  bed." 

Miss  Clinton's  eyes  were  full  of  wonder  and  incred 
ulity.  "  I  cannot  understand  it,"  she  said.  "  My 
cousin  was  with  the  American  Ambulance  in  France. 
He  says  that  the  slightest  flesh  wound  sends  a  soldier 
to  the  hospital." 

"  They  haven't  any  choice  in  the  matter.  Besides,  it 
isn't  the  same.  Poor  devils,  they  may  have  been  at  it 
in  the  trenches  for  weeks  and  months.  A  wound  of  any 
sort  means  a  pleasant  vacation.  Still,"  he  went  on 
after  a  moment,  a  faint  derisive  smile  on  his  lips,  "  we 
had  a  big  husky  up  in  Camp  who  insisted  on  going 
to  bed  every  time  he  had  the  nosebleed." 

She  was  looking  into  his  blood-shot  eyes,  infinite 
pity  and  concern  in  her  own. 


66  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

"  Will  you  let  me  dress  your  hands,  Mr.  Percival, 
whenever  it  is  necessary?  I  am  getting  used  to  it 
now." 

"  It's  good  of  you,  Miss  Clinton,"  he  replied  grate 
fully.  "  But  I  think  you'd  better  stick  to  the  fellows 
who  really  need  attention.  Don't  add  an  extra  ounce 
to  your  burden.  You'll  need  all  of  your  strength  and 
courage  to  face  the  demands  of  the  next  few  days. 
Those  chaps  have  just  begun  to  suffer.  They're  going 
to  have  a  tight  squeeze  getting  through, —  if  they  get 
through  at  all.  You  have  not  answered  my  question. 
Is  there  anything  I  can  do  for  you  or  your  aunt  ?  " 

"  No, —  not  a  thing,"  she  said.  "  We  are  quite  all 
right.  As  Mr.  Mott  said,  we  are  all  in  the  same  boat, 
Mr.  Percival.  We've  got  to  make  up  our  minds  to 
that.  We  can't  have  the  comforts  and  the  luxuries 
we  had  day  before  yesterday.  Whatever  is  left  of 
them,  we  must  share  with  others." 

"  Even  with  stowaways,"  he  ventured,  but  not  fatu 
ously. 

"  No  one  is  likely  to  forget  how  our  only  stow 
away  came  by  his  wounds,"  she  said  simply.  "  Despite 
your  modesty,  I  am  quite  certain  who  it  was  that  car 
ried  the  Chief  Engineer  on  deck,  Mr.  Percival.  While 
his  clothes  were  burning,  too." 

Percival  turned  his  face  away  and  many  seconds 
passed  before  he  spoke. 

"  By  the  way,"  he  said  at  last,  a  trifle  unsteadily, 
"  at  regular  intervals  the  gun  up  there  in  the  bow  is 
to  be  fired.  You  must  not  be  alarmed  when  it  goes 
off.  There  is  a  chance  that  some  ship  may  hear  the 
report.  The  British  have  a  few  warships  down  here, 
you  know.  They  would  investigate  if  they  got  word 
of  biff  guns  being  fired  anywhere  in  these  parts.  Mr. 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  67 

Mott  will  give  warning  when  the  gun  is  to  be  fired,  so 
that  every  one  will  understand.  I  —  I  just  thought 
I'd  tell  you." 

"  Thank  you.  Good-bye  for  the  present.  I  must 
get  back  to  my  wounded." 

"  Keep  your  spirits  up,"  he  said.  "  That's  the  prin 
cipal  job  now,  Miss  Clinton.  Good-bye, —  and  thank 
you" 

He  watched  her  as  she  moved  off  down  the  deck. 
'He  could  not  help  noticing  that  her  figure  drooped 
perceptibly.  In  his  mind's  eye  he  saw  her  as  she  was 
but  two  days  before,  straight,  graceful,  full  of  the  joy 
of  living,  with  a  stride  that  was  free  and  swinging. 
He  recalled  her  lovely,  inquiring  grey  eyes  as  she  stared 
at  him  on  that  ignominious  afternoon,  the  parted  red 
lips  and  the  smile  that  came  to  them,  the  smartly 
dressed  hair,  the  jaunty  hat,  the  trim  sport  suit  of  tan- 
coloured  jersey  —  he  recalled  the  alluring  picture  she 
made  that  day,  and  sadly  shook  his  head. 

"  Poor  girl,"  he  said  to  himself,  and  walked  slowly  in 
the  opposite  direction,  favouring  his  left  leg. 

He  went  down  to  see  the  Captain.  The  eld  seadog 
was  stretched  out  in  his  berth,  a  look  of  pain  and  utter 
despair  in  his  eyes.  One  of  the  Russian  dancers,  a 
rather  pretty  girl  of  a  distinctly  Slavic  type,  was  clean 
ing  up  the  room.  The  ship's  doctor  had  just  left. 

"  Feeling  a  bit  more  comfortable,  sir?  "  inquired  the 
young  man. 

"  I  wish  you'd  get  this  girl  out  of  here,"  growled 
Captain  Trigger  with  difficulty.  "  I  want  to  swear." 

"  I  think  it  would  be  all  right  to  go  ahead  with  it, 
sir,"  said  Percival.  "  She  doesn't  understand  a  word 
of  English." 

The   Captain   shook   his   head.     "I'll   let   it   wait." 


68  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

Then,  looking  at  his  visitor's  bandaged  hands :  "  How 
are  your  hands,  my  lad?  " 

"  Fairly  easy.  The  doctor  says  the  burns  are  not 
deep.  Mr.  Mott  asked  me  to  step  in  and  see  you,  sir, 
and  give  you  my  opinion  as  to  the  bombs.  You  see, 
I've  had  a  great  deal  of  experience  with  high  explosives. 
There  isn't  the  slightest  doubt  in  my  mind  that  you 
found  and  got  rid  of  the  worst  of  them.  The  officer 
in  charge  of  the  gun-crew  agrees  with  me.  They- 
planted  the  big  ones,  the  ones  that  were  to  destroy  the 
ship,  down  in  the  hold,  where  there  was  less  chance  of 
discovery.  The  others,  I  am  convinced,  were  much 
smaller.  It  would  have  been  impossible  to  hide  a  bomb 
of  any  noticeable  size  in  any  of  the  places  where  the 
explosions  occurred.  They  went  about  it  very  cun 
ningly,  very  systematically.  Of  course,  no  one  saw  the 
bombs  that  exploded,  but  judging  by  the  actual  re 
sults,  they  could  not  have  been  very  powerful." 

"  And  I  also,"  said  the  Captain,  "  thank  God  we 
dug  out  the  big  ones."  He  scowled  forlornly.  "  Dr. 
Cullen  says  I  am  in  for  a  week  of  this,  Percival.  You 
don't  think  so,  do  you  ?  " 

Percival  smiled.  "  I  am  more  or  less  of  an  expert 
on  explosives,  sir,"  he  replied. 

"  Umph,"  grunted  Captain  Trigger.  "  I  see.  Just 
the  same,  I  think  I'll  be  up  and  about  by  tomorrow. 
If  I  were  your  age,  young  man,  you  can  bet  I  wouldn't 
be  lying  here  in  this  bed." 

"  On  the  other  hand,  if  I  were  your  age,  Captain 
Trigger,"  said  Percival,  "  I'd  probably  have  sense 
enough  to  do  exactly  what  the  doctor  ordered." 

Captain  Trigger's  mouth  fell  open. 

"  Well,  of  all  the  damned  — "  he  began,  and  then 
swallowed  hard. 


CHAPTER  VI 

FOR  three  days  and  nights  the  Doraine  drifted 
lazily  in  a  calm  and  rippling  sea,  always  to  the 
southward.  The  days  were  bright  and  warm, 
the  nights  black  and  chill.  It  was  the  spring  of  the 
year  in  that  zone.  Without  adequate  navigation  in 
struments,  Mr.  Mott  was  forced  to  rely  to  a  great 
extent  on  speculation.  He  was  able  to  make  certain 
calculations  with  reasonable  accuracy,  but  they  were 
of  little  real  significance.  It  was,  of  course,  possible 
to  determine  the  general  direction  in  which  they  were 
drifting,  and  the  speed.  They  were  slowly  but  surely 
edging  into  the  strong  west  wind  drift.  The  Falk 
land  Islands  would  soon  be  off  to  the  right,  with  South 
Georgia  and  the  Sandwich  group  farther  to  the  south 
and  east,  the  southernmost  tip  of  Africa  to  the  left. 

Not  a  sail  had  been  sighted,  not  a  sign  of  smoke 
appeared  on  the  spotless  horizon.  At  regular  inter 
vals  the  gun  on  the  forward  deck  boomed  thrice  in 
quick  succession,  startling  the  lifeless  hulk  into  a  sort 
of  spasmodic  vitality.  Then  she  would  sink  back  once 
more  into  the  old,  irksome  lethargy,  incapable  of  re 
sisting  the  gentlest  wave,  submissive  to  the  whim  of  the 
slightest  breeze.  The  ship's  carpenter  and  his  men 
were  making  slow  headway  in  the  well-nigh  impossible 
task  of  repairing  the  rudder.  Attempts  were  being 
made  to  rig  up  makeshift  sails  to  replace  those  licked 
from  the  supplemental  spars  by  flames  that  had  earned 

considerable  progress  along  the  roof  of  the  upper  deck 

69 


70  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

building  before  they  were  subdued.  Blackened,  charred 
masts  and  yards,  stripped  of  rigging,  reared  themselves 
like  pines  at  the  edge  of  a  fire-swept  forest.  Sail- 
makers  and  riggers  laboured  stubbornly,  but  the  work 
was  slow  and  the  means  of  restoration  limited. 

The  occupants  of  the  derelict  had  settled  down  to  a 
dull,  almost  dogged  state  of  resignation.  There  were 
several  deaths  and  burials,  incidents  that  made  but 
little  impression  on  the  waiting,  watchful  survivors. 
Each  succeeding  day  brought  forth  additional  watch 
ers  to  swell  the  anxious  throng, —  resolute  and  some 
times  ungovernable  men  who,  defying  their  wounds  and 
the  nurses,  refused  to  stay  where  they  could  not  have  a 
hand  in  all  that  was  going  on. 

Back  of  all  this  pitiful  courage,  however,  lurked  the 
unholy  fear  that  they  might  be  left  to  their  fate  in 
case  the  ship  had  to  be  hurriedly  abandoned. 

Mr.  Mott  watched  the  weather.  Everv  seaman  on 
board  the  Doraine  scanned  the  cloudless  sky  with 
searching,  anxious  eyes.  They  sniffed  the  steady  wind 
that  blew  them  farther  south.  Always  they  scanned 
the  sky  and  sniffed  the  wind. 

"  It's  got  to  come  sometime,"  repeated  Captain  Trig 
ger,  after  each  report  from  Mr.  Mott. 

"  I've  known  weather  like  this  to  last  for  weeks," 
said  the  First  Officer. 

"  In  the  South  Pacific,  yes,"  said  the  Captain  grimly. 
"  But  we're  in  the  South  Atlantic,  Mott." 

On  the  sixth  day  the  barometer  began  to  fall.  The 
breeze  stiffened.  The  sea  became  choppy,  and  white- 
caps  danced  fitfully  over  the  greenish  stretches,  grow 
ing  wilder  and  wilder  under  the  whip  of  a  flouting  wind. 
The  two  patchwork  sails  on  the  lumbering  Doraine 
flapped  noisily  for  awhile,  as  if  shaking  off  their  tor- 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  71 

por,  then  suddenly  grew  taut  and  fat  with  prosperity. 
The  twisted,  half-jammed  rudder, —  far  from  worthy 
despite  the  efforts  of  its  repairers, —  whiningly  obeyed 
the  man  at  the  wheel,  and  once  more  the  ship  felt  the 
caress  of  the  deep  on  her  cleaving  bows. 

The  horizon  to  the  north  and  west  seemed  to  draw 
nearer,  the  contrast  between  the  deepening  blue  of  the 
water  and  the  clear  azure  of  the  contracting  dome 
more  sharply  defined.  The  sky  that  had  been  cloudless 
for  days  still  remained  barren,  but  the  sailor  knew 
what  lay  beyond  the  clear-cut  rim  of  the  world.  The 
man  of  the  sea  could  look  far  beyond  the  horizon.  He 
could  see  the  ugly  clouds  that  were  even  now  speeding 
down  from  the  north,  invisible  as  yet  but  soon  to  creep 
into  view;  he  could  see  the  mighty  billows  on  the  other 
side  of  that  distant  line;  he  could  hear  the  roar  and 
shriek  of  the  tempest  that  was  still  hundreds  of  miles 
away.  It  was  the  matter  of  but  a  few  hours  before  the 
wind  and  the  billows  would  rush  up  to  smite  the  Doraine 
with  all  their  might  under  the  cover  of  a  black  and 
storm-rent  sky.  And  what  was  to  become  of  the  ves 
sel,  floundering  in  the  path  of  the  hurricane? 

Late  afternoon  brought  the  forerunner  of  the  gale, 
a  whistling,  howling  squall  that  frantically  strove,  it 
would  seem,  to  outrace  the  baleful  clouds.  Then  the 
Doraine  was  in  the  thick  of  the  furious  revel  of  sea 
and  sky,  plunging,  leaping,  rolling  like  a  monstrous 
cork.  .  .  . 

How  she  managed  to  weather  the  storm,  God  knows, 
and  He  alone.  At  the  mercy  of  wave  and  wind,  she 
was  tossed  and  hammered  and  racked  for  two  frightful 
days  and  nights,  and  yet  she  remained  afloat,  battered, 
smashed,  raked  from  stem  to  stern,  stripped  of  every 
thing  the  tempest  could  wrench  from  her  in  its  fury. 


72  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

And  yet  on  the  third  day,  when  the  storm  abated,  the 
sturdy  ship  was  still  riding  the  waves,  flayed  but  un- 
conquered,  and  the  baffled  sea  was  licking  the  sides  of 
her  once  more  with  servile  though  deceitful  tenderness. 

But  there  was  water  in  the  hold.  The  ship  was 
leaking  badly. 

Up  from  the  stifling  interior  straggled  the  unhappy 
inmates.  They  looked  again  upon  the  unbelievable: 
a  smiling,  dancing  sea  of  blue  under  a  canopy  clean 
and  spotless.  It  was  unbelievable.  Even  the  stout 
hearted  Captain  and  the  faithful  mate,  blear-eyed  and 
haggard  from  loss  of  sleep,  were  filled  with  wonder. 

"  I  can't  understand  it,"  muttered  Mr.  Mott  a  dozen 
times  that  day,  shaking  his  head  in  a  bewildered  sort 
of  way.  "  I  can't  understand  how  she  did  it.  By 
right,  she  ought  to  be  at  the  bottom  of  the  ocean,  and 
here  she  is  on  top  of  it,  same  as  ever." 

"  Do  you  believe  in  God,  Mr.  Mott? "  asked  the 
Captain  solemnly. 

"  I  do,"  said  Mr.  Mott  emphatically.  After  a  mo 
ment  he  added :  "  I've  been  a  long  time  coming  to  it, 
Captain  Trigger,  but  I  do.  Nothing  short  of  an  Al 
mighty  Being  could  have  steered  this  ship  for  the  past 
two  days." 

The  Captain  nodded  his  head  slowly,  his  gaze  fixed 
on  something  above  and  far  beyond  the  horizon. 

"  I  suppose  it's  too  much  to  ask  of  Him,  though," 
said  he,  audibly  completing  a  thought. 

Mr.  Mott  evidently  had  been  thinking  of  the  same 
thing,  for  he  said : 

"  I'm  sorry  to  say  it's  gained  about  two  feet  on  the 
pumps  since  last  night." 

Captain  Trigger's  face  was  very  grave.  "  That 
means  a  couple  of  days  more  at  the  outside."  His  eyes 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  73 

rested  speculatively  on  the  three  lifeboats  still  hang 
ing  above  the  starboard  rail.^  There  was  another  be 
ing  repaired  on  the  port  side.  "  More  than  six  hun 
dred  of  us  on  board,  Andrew."  His  head  dropped  sud 
denly,  his  chin  twitched.  Mr.  Mott  looked  away. 

"  I  don't  believe  it  will  come  to  that,"  said  he,  an 
odd  note  of  confidence  in  his  voice.  "  'Tain't  likely, 
old  friend,  that  God  would  see  us  safely  through  all 
we've  had  to  tackle  and  then  desert  us  in  the  end. 
Something's  bound  to  turn  up.  I've  a  feeling, —  a 
queer  feeling, —  that  we're  going  to  pull  out  of  this  all 
right.  I  know  it  looks  mighty  hopeless,  but  — " 

"  Just  the  same,  Mr.  Mott,"  broke  in  the  Captain, 
lifting  his  head  and  setting  his  jaw,  "  you'd  better  set 
all  available  hands  to  work  on  the  rafts  immediately. 
It's  true  God  has  helped  us  through  a  lot,  but  it  strikes 
me  we'd  better  be  on  the  safe  side  and  help  God  a  little 
at  this  stage  of  the  game.  He  is  wonderful,  Andrew, 
but  He  isn't  wonderful  enough  to  keep  man  afloat  very 
long  unless  man  himself  builds  the  raft.  So  don't  lose 
a  minute." 

Anxious,  inquiring  eyes  followed  the  Captain  and 
his  First  Officer  wherever  they  went.  On  all  sides  were 
silent,  "beaten  people  who  asked  no  questions,  for  they 
were  afraid  of  the  answers.  Sick,  dazed,  haggard, 
they  stared  hopelessly,  drearily  out  over  the  water; 
for  all  that  their  faces  revealed  the  end  was  near  at 
hand  and  they  cared  but  little.  They  had  been  through 
one  hell ;  death  could  bring  nothing  worse. 

Here  and  there  a  stout-hearted  optimist  appeared 
among  them,  but  his  very  cheerfulness  seemed  to  offend. 
They  did  not  want  to  hear  his  silly,  stupid  predictions 
that  something  was  "  sure  to  turn  up."  They  knew 
that  water  was  coming  into  the  hold ;  they  knew  that 


74  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

there  were  but  four  lifeboats  and  seven  hundred  men 
and  women ;  they  knew  that  the  Doraine  was  going 
down  in  a  very  few  hours ;  they  knew  that  the  Captain 
had  given  up  all  hope  of  rescue.  Nothing  could  "  turn 
up  "  now  but  death. 

Madame  Obosky  had  taken  a  great  fancy  to  Alger 
non  Adonis  Percival,  and  for  a  most  peculiar  reason. 
He  had,  it  appears,  abused  her  roundly  on  the  first 
night  of  the  storm  for  venturing  on  deck  against  or 
ders,  compelling  him  to  risk  what  he  considered  a  very 
precious  life  in  a  successful  effort  to  drag  her  back  to 
safety.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  he  did  not  drag  her  back 
to  safety.  That  feat  was  accomplished  by  two  sailors 
who  managed  to  reach  both  of  them  before  another 
devastating  wave  came  up  to  tear  his  grip  loose  from 
the  broken  rail  to  which  he  clung  with  one  bandaged 
hand  while  he  kept  her  from  sliding  into  the  sea  with 
the  other. 

He  was  very  angry.  In  the  first  place,  his  hands 
hurt  him  dreadfully,  and  in  the  second  place  she  had 
forced  him  to  disobey  orders  by  going  out  to  save  her. 
He  did  not  mutter  his  complaints.  He  told  her  in  plain 
and  violent  English  what  he  thought  of  her,  and  if  she 
went  out  there  again  he'd  be  damned  happy  to  let  her 
drown. 

Now,  it  had  been  some  time  since  any  man  had  had 
the  hardihood  or  temerity  to  upbraid  Madame  Obosky. 
No  male  had  cursed  her  since  she  left  Petrograd, —  and 
that  was  four  years  ago.  She  had  been  cursed  often 
enough  by  her  own  sex, —  professionally,  of  course, — 
but  the  men  she  had  encountered  since  leaving  Russia 
were  either  too  chivalrous  or  too  cowardly  to  abuse 
her,  and  she  missed  it  terribly. 

She  had  gone  through  a  very  hard  school  in  order 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  75 

to  become  one  of  the  principal  dancers  in  her  land. 
Teachers  had  cursed  her,  teachers  had  beaten  her, — • 
and  they  always  were  men. 

When  she  was  eighteen  she  married  a  lion-tamer. 
Who  would  have  thought  that  a  man  who  trained  lions 
could  be  gentle  and  mild,  and  as  tame  as  the  beasts 
he  had  beaten  for  years?  She  was  barely  nineteen 
when  he  died,  quite  suddenly.  There  was  a  dark  ru 
mour  that  she  had  poisoned  him.  True  or  false,  the 
rumour  persisted,  and  she  soon  became  one  of  the  most 
popular  dancers  in  the  Empire.  For  three  years  she 
had  a  manager  who  treated  her  so  vilely,  so  contemptu 
ously  that  she  tried  to  kill  his  wife,  whereupon  the  un 
natural  husband  refused  to  have  anything  more  to  do 
with  her. 

She  was  dancing  in  Germany  when  the  War  broke 
out,  but  succeeded  in  getting  over  into  Holland  within 
a  week  or  two,  thereby  escaping  what  she  was  pleased 
to  describe  as  "  something  zat  no  woman  could  en 
dure,  no  matter  how  long  she  have  live'  in  Russia." 
Paris  and  London  had  treated  her  kindly,  courteously, 
but  that  was  to  be  expected,  she  repined,  because  all 
of  the  real  men  were  off  at  the  front  fighting.  Instead 
of  being  scowled  at  and  ordered  about  by  managers 
and  orchestra  leaders,  or  brow-beaten  by  hotel-clerks 
and  head-waiters,  she  met  with  nothing  but  the  most 
servile  politeness, —  due,  she  was  prone  to  argue,  to 
the  unquestioned  decadence  of  the  French  and  English 
races.  They  were  a  bloodless  lot,  those  Frenchmen 
and  Englishmen. 

It  was  the  same  in  Rio  Janeiro,  Buenos  Aires  and 
Santiago, —  and  it  would  be  even  worse  in  New  York, 
Chicago  and  San  Francisco.  The  Americans,  she  had 
heard,  were  the  worst  of  them  all.  They  didn't  know 


76  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

the  first  thing  about  the  majesty  of  sex.  The  In 
dian,  she  understood,  was  an  exception.  From  all  ac 
counts,  he  knew  .how  to  treat  his  woman. 

She  was  homesick.  Pier  heart  leaped  with  joy  when 
she  discovered  in  Percival  what  she  believed  to  be  a 
domineering,  masterful  man.  He  had  been  neither 
servile,  nor  polite,  nor  afraid.  He  had  treated  her, — 
at  least  for  an  illuminating,  transcendent  ten  minutes, 
—  as  if  she  were  the  dirt  under  his  feet, —  and  he  was 
an  American  at  that.  True,  he  had  apologized  a  little 
later  on,  and  had  blushed  quite  becomingly  in  doing  so, 
but  nothing, —  nothing  in  the  world, —  would  ever  make 
her  believe  that  he  was  not  the  sort  of  man  who  could 
be  depended  upon  to  put  a  woman  in  her  place  and 
keep  her  there.  He  might  apologize  until  he  was  black 
in  the  face  and  still  be  unable  to  take  back  the  words 
he  had  uttered.  Notwithstanding  that  he,  in  his  apol 
ogy,  professed  to  have  mistaken  her  in  the  darkness 
for  one  of  the  Portuguese  immigrant  women  who  didn't 
understand  a  word  of  English,  she  forgave  him  quite 
humbly,  and  that  was  going  pretty  far  for  Olga 
Obosky,  whose  identity  ought  not  to  have  been  a  matter 
of  doubt,  even  on  the  darkest  of  nights. 

She  was  a  lithe,  perfectly  formed  young  woman,  beau 
tiful  in  an  unusual  way.  Her  body  was  as  sinuous  as 
that  of  a  woodland  nymph.  Indeed,  in  one  of  her  most 
spectacular  dances,  she  appeared  as  a  nymph,  bare 
footed,  bare-legged,  and, —  as  Mrs.  Spofford  caus 
tically  remarked, —  bare-faced.  She  possessed  the 
marvellously  clear,  colourless  complexion  found  only 
among  the  purely  Slavic  women.  Her  lips  were  red  and 
sensuous,  her  eyes  darkly  mysterious  and  brooding,  her 
hair  as  black  as  the  raven's  wing. 

When  she  smiled  her  face  became  strikingly  alive, 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  77 

radiant,  transforming  her  into  a  jolly,  good-natured, 
wholesome  girl  in  whom  not  the  faintest  trace  of  the 
carnal  was  left.  Every  move,  every  thought,  every 
impulse  was  feminine;  her  imagination  was  feminine; 
she  cast  the  spell  of  her  femininity  over  all  with  whom 
she  came  in  contact.  Primitively  sensuous,  she  was 
also  primitively  wary, —  and  so  she  was  ineffably  fem 
inine. 

Prior  to  the  time  of  her  dramatic  encounter  with  the 
American,  she  had  favoured  him  with  no  more  than  a 
glance  or  two  of  curiosity.  He  was  a  stowaway ;  for 
a  brief  while  he  wras  suspected  of  being  involvedr  in  the 
plot  to  blow  up  the  ship.  That  was  enough  for  her. 
Twice  she  had  seen  Miss  Clinton  talking  with  him,  and 
once,  just  before  the  storm  set  in,  she  had  paused  to 
watch  the  young  American  girl  renew  the  bandages 
on  his  hands  after  dressing  the  burns.  Half  an  hour 
after  he  had  apologized  for  speaking  so  roughly  to 
her,  she  decided  that  it  was  her  duty  to  hunt  him  up 
and  minister  to  him.  The  ship  was  rolling  terribly, 
the  din  of  the  elements  was  deafening,  but  Olga  Obosky 
was  not  a  faint-hearted  person.  She  went  forth  boldly, 
confidently.  Terrified,  clinging  observers  marvelled  at 
her  sure-footedness,  at  the  graceful  way  in  which  her 
sinuous  body  bent  itself  to  the  perilous  heavings  of  the 
vessel. 

She  found  him  in  the  reading-room,  seated  in  a 
corner.  Miss  Clinton  was  readjusting  the  bandage 
on  one  of  his  hands.  Half  a  dozen  people  wrere  in  the 
room,  manfully  defying  the  turmoil  that  had  sent  nearly 
every  one  else  to  bed  in  terror  and  distress.  Without 
hesitation  the  dancer  joined  the  couple  in  the  corner. 
Her  smile  was  engaging;  a  faint  line  between  her  eye 
brows  signified  the  concern  she  felt  for  him. 


78  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

Miss  Clinton  looked  up  from  her  work.  Her  smile 
was  politely  accusative, —  and  brief. 

"  It  is  all  my  fault,"  began  Madame  Obosky,  stand 
ing  before  them,  her  feet  wide  apart,  her  knees  bent 
slightly  to  meet  the  varying  slants  and  lurches  of  the 
vessel.  She  spoke  the  English  language  confidently  and 
well.  Her  accent,  which  was  scarcely  noticeable,  be 
trayed  the  fact  that  she  had  mastered  French  long 
before  attempting  English.  There  was  a  piquant  bold 
ness  in  the  occasional  misplacing  of  words  and  in  the 
haphazard  construction  of  sentences.  She  was  un 
afraid. 

"1  have  subject  him  to  much  pain  and  discomfort," 
she  went  on,  addressing  the  girl.  "  Those  poor  hand ! 
It  is  I  who  should  kiss  them,  Mademoiselle,  not  you." 

"  Kiss  them?  "  gasped  Miss  Clinton. 

"  Of  no  doubt,"  said  Madame  Obosky  readily.  "  Do 
they  not  pain  because  of  me?  Should  I  not  kiss  the 
hand  who  snatch  me  from  the  horrible  death?  From 
the  Kingdom  Come,  as  the  doctor  he  say  to  me  such 
a  little  time  ago.  And  you,  Mademoiselle,  who  have 
not  been  save  by  him  from  the  Kingdom  Come,  you 
attend  his  hands  and  make  him  to  be  greatly  comfort 
able." 

"  I  am  merely  dressing  the  burns,  Madame  Obosky," 
said  the  other,  coldly.  "  I  have  done  as  much  for  the 
other  poor  fellows  who  — " 

"  I  know,  I  know,"  broke  in  the  Russian,  smiling. 
"  You  must  not  be  offend  with  me  if  I  speak  your  lan 
guage  so  badly." 

"  It  strikes  me  you  speak  it  most  acceptably,"  in 
terposed  Percival. 

"What  is  your  name?"  she  asked  abruptly.     "I 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  79 

have  heard  you  called  the  stowaway.  No  one  has  speak 
your  name  to  me." 

"  My  name  is  Percival,"  said  he. 

"  It  is  a  pretty  name,"  said  she,  dubiously.  "  But 
surely  you  do  not  approve  of  me  to  call  you  Percival 
so  quick.  What  is  the  other  name,  the  name  I  am 
to—" 

"  That's  the  trouble  with  a  name  like  mine.  It 
sounds  so  beastly  informal  when  you  leave  off  the  Mis 
ter,  and  it  sounds  as  if  you'd  been  a  servant  in  the 
family  for  at  least  one  generation  if  you  stick  it  on. 
If  you  could  only  call  me  Monsieur  Percival,  or  Senor 
Percival,  or  even  Herr  Percival,  it  wouldn't  seem  so 
bad,  but  Mister  Percival, —  well,  it's  pretty  soft,  isn't 
it,  Miss  Clinton?" 

"  Please  hold  your  hand  still,  Mr.  Percival,"  or 
dered  the  girl.  She  smiled  up  at  the  puzzled  dancer. 
"  His  name  is  Mr.  Percival,  Madame  Obosky.  That's 
the  poor  creature's  last  name." 

"  Oh,  I  see.  Then  even  you,  Mademoiselle,  may  not 
call  him  Percival  ?  " 

"  No,  I  do  not  call  him  Percival." 

"  You  see,  she's  known  me  such  a  very  short  time," 
explained  the  subject  of  these  remarks. 

For  a  few  moments  Madame  Obosky  watched  the 
bandaging  process  in  silence.  When  she  spoke  again 
it  was  to  say : 

"  You  are  so  skilful,  so  gentle,  Mademoiselle.  I  am 
taking  a  lesson  in  gentleness  from  you." 

"  It  is  quite  simple,  Madame.  I  am  very  awkward. 
I  have  had  no  experience.  But  if  we  ever  live  to  see 
home  again,  I  shall  prepare  myself  at  once  for  work 
in  France.  We  are  needed  over  there.  We  will  be 


80  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

needed  more  than  ever,  now  that  America  has  gone 
in.  Our  own  soldiers  are  over  there,  God  bless 
them." 

Madame  Obosky  gave  her  a  pitying  look. 

"  You  may  thank  your  God  that  you  do  not  live  in  a 
land  of  soldiers,  Mademoiselle.  If  you  did,  you  would 
not  be  so  eager  to  nurse  them  back  to  life.  Do  I  shock 
you?  Voila!  When  you  train  a  boy  to  be  a  soldier, 
as  the  boys  are  trained  in  my  country  and  in  Ger 
many,  you  make  an  animal  of  him, —  and  not  a  very 
nice  animal  at  that.  You  nurse  him  back  to  life  and 
strength  and  in  return  for  your  kindness  he  outrages 
you,  and  goes  his  way  rejoicing.  No,  I  do  not  like 
the  soldiers." 

Miss  Clinton  did  not  look  up.  Percival  stared  at 
the  Russian  for  a  moment  and  then  observed : 

"  I  don't  think  you  can  say  that  of  the  French  or 
the  English,  Madame." 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "  Quite  true.  But  the 
French  and  the  English,  Mr.  Percival,  are  decadent 
races,"  she  said  coolly,  as  if  there  were  nothing  more 
to  be  said  on  the  subject.  "Please,  Mademoiselle," 
she  went  on,  briskly,  "  will  you  not  let  me  see  how  you 
have  prepared  his  hands?  I  mean,  how  have  you, — 
is  it  right  to  say  fixed  them?  " 

"  Dressed  them,  you  mean,  Madame  Obosky." 

"  I  see.  First  you  undress  them,  then  you  dress 
them,  is  it  not  so  ?  " 

Ruth  Clinton  laughed.     The  woman  was  quaint. 

"  I  am  about  to  begin  on  the  left  hand.  You  may 
watch  me,  if  you  care  to  do  so." 

"  Will  it  not  make  you  embarrass  ?  " 

"Why  should  I  be  embarrassed?"  inquired  Ruth, 
flushing. 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  81 

"  I  have  said  the  wrong  word,"  lamented  the  other. 
"  Nervous, —  zat, —  that  is  the  word." 

"  They're  not  very  lovely  things  to  look  at,"  said 
Percival.  "  All  red  and  blistery  and  greasy.  Miss 
Clinton  is  a  regular  heroine  to  tackle  'em." 

"  I  have  witnessed  some  very  terrible  sights,  Mr. 
Percival,"  said  the  Russian,  her  eyes  narrowing. 
"  Have  you  ever  seen  a  little  Jewish  girl, —  but  no, 
Mademoiselle,  no !  I  have  catch  the  look  in  your  eyes. 
I  shall  not  tell  you  what  I  have  seen.  Go  on !  I  shall 
be  silent-  and  —  take  my  first  lesson." 

Closely,  intently  she  watched  the  process.  When 
it  was  all  over  and  the  bottle  containing  ointment  had 
been  restored  to  the  patient's  pocket,  she  spread  out 
her  hands  and  exclaimed: 

"  It  is  not  difficult.  May  I  inquire  where  the  gauze 
bandages  are  to  be  obtained,  Miss  Clinton?  And  do 
you  always  use  the  same  safety  pins  ?  " 

She  arose  early  the  next  morning.  Rousing  her 
maid,  she  ordered  her  to  apply  to  the  ship's  surgeon 
for  bandages  and  to  fetch  them  to  her  at  once. 

"  I  know, —  yes,  I  know.  You  are  dying,  but  do  as 
I  tell  you.  This  instant!  Why  should  you,  a  great 
hulking  beast  of  a  woman,  be  dying  every  minute  of 
the  day  while  I,  not  half  your  size,  am  tingling  all 
over  with  life  ?  Go  !  " 

"  But,  Madame,"  groaned  the  wretched  woman,  roll 
ing  her  eyes,  "  I  shall  be  dashed  to  pieces  against  the 
walls.  I  cannot  stand.  My  legs  will  not  hold  me  up. 
They  — " 

"  Enough !  That  is  no  excuse.  My  legs  manage 
to  hold  me  up." 

"  But,  Madame,  it  is  my  legs  I  am  speaking  of.  My 
legs  are  not  like  yours." 


82  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

"  Any  fool  can  see  that,"  retorted  her  mistress,  and 
the  ungainly  maid  staggered  out  on  her  mission. 

Later  on,  supplied  with  a  roll  of  gauze,  Madame 
Obosky  set  out  in  quest  of  her  preserver.  Even  the 
veterans  among  the  seamen  gazed  upon  her  in  won 
dering  admiration  as  she  made  her  way  about  the  ship. 
She  was  a  revelation  to  them.  The  increasing  fury  of 
the  storm  had  driven  all  save  the  hardiest  sailors  and 
a  few  of  the  non-praying  male  passengers  to  their 
rooms.  Now  and  then  one  or  two  of  the  courageous, 
devoted  nurses  appeared  in  the  corridors,  reeling  from 
patient  to  patient,  but  except  for  them  the  ship  seemed 
entirely  bereft  of  women.  Small  wonder  then  that  the 
lithe,  undaunted  Russian  created  a  sensation  among 
the  sailors  who  themselves  were  cold  with  dread. 

She  discovered  him  at  last,  coming  up  the  steps  from 
the  devastated  engine  room.  He  was  with  Mr.  Mott 
and  several  other  half-dressed  men.  Their  faces  were 
grave, —  more  serious  than  ever.  They  had  been 
down  to  investigate  the  leak.  Percival  was  stripped  to 
the  waist.  The  glare  of  the  lanterns  fell  upon  his 
broad  shoulders  and  powerful  arms,  bronzed  and  bur 
nished  by  the  sun  of  the  high  hills. 

"  Come,"  she  said,  laying  her  hand  on  one  of  his 
brawny  arms,  "  I  have  with  me  the  bandages."  She 
sent  a  swift  glance  over  him,  and  smiled.  "  But  I  see 
you  have  not  the  bottle.  Is  it  in  your  cabin,  Mr.  Per- 
civail?" 

He  flushed  darkly  under  his  coat  of  tan.  His  com 
panions  stared  for  a  moment,  and  then  went  on. 

"  I  am  busy,"  he  said.  *  I  haven't  the  time  now, 
Madame  Obosky.  Thank  you,  just  the  same."  Then 
a  sense  of  loyalty  to  the  girl  who  had  been  kind  to  him 
impelled  him  to  add :  "  Besides,  Miss  Clinton  has  been 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  83 

taking  care  of  my  hands.  She  has  got  used  to  dress 
ing  them,  so  I  — " 

"  But  it  is  my  duty  now,"  she  protested.  "  She 
owes  so  little  to  you  and  I  so  much.  Come,  let  us 
procure  the  lotion.  Where  is  your  cabin?  " 

He  held  back.     "  You  can't  go  to  my  cabin." 

"  And  why  not?  "  she  exclaimed,  in  surprise.  "  Does 
not  Miss  Clinton  go  to  your  cabin?  " 

"  No,  ^he  does  not !  " 

"  But  she  goes  to  the  cabins  of  other  men  who  are 
wounded.  I  have  see  her  with  my  own  eyes." 

"  That's  different.     They  can't  come  to  her." 

She  looked  searchingly  into  his  eyes. 

"  I  see,"  she  said  after  a  moment.  "  You  are  in  love 
with  her." 

"  Ridiculous,"  he  exclaimed,  scowling. 

"  And  so  you  prefer  to  have  her  fix  your  hands.  I 
see,  my  friend.  Voila!  If  so  is  the  case,  I  am  out 
cast." 

"  But,  confound  it,  it  isn't  the  case,"  he  cried.  "  It's 
simply  this :  I  wouldn't  for  the  world  have  her  feel 
that  I  am  not  grateful,  and  that's  exactly  what  it 
would  look  like  if  I  allowed  you  or  any  one  else  to 
butt  in,  Madame  Obosky." 

"  Butt  in  ?  "  she  said,  a  puzzled  look  in  her  dark 
eyes.  "What  is  that?" 

"  It's  English  for  interfere,"  said  he,  shortly. 

She  removed  her  hand  from  his  arm.  He  was  con 
scious  of  the  abrupt  termination  of  an  exquisite  thrill. 

"  Very  well,"  she  said,  lifting  her  chin.  "  I  shall  not 
interfere." 

"  Forgive  me,  please,"  he  said.  "  It's  mighty  good  of 
you.  Please  don't  think  me  ungracious.  You  under 
stand,  however, —  don't  you?  " 


84*  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

"  No,  I  do  not,"  she  replied,  shaking  her  head  slowly. 
Suddenly  her  eyes  widened.  "  Is  it  because  I  dance  in 
my  bare  feet,  in  my  bare  legs,  that  you  think  so  vilely 
of  me?" 

He  stared.  "  Good  Lord !  I  don't  think  vilely  of 
you,  Madame  Obosky.  I  wasn't  even  aware  that  you 
danced  in  your  bare  feet  and  legs." 

"  You  have  never  seen  Obosky  dance?  "  she  cried  in 
astonishment. 

"  Never." 

She  frowned.  "  Then,  my  friend,  I  was  wrong  in 
what  I  say  just  now.  Most  men  who  have  seen  me 
dance  think  I  am  a  bad  woman,  and  so  they  either  covet 
me  or  despise  me.  If  you  have  not  had  ze  pleasure  of 
seeing  me,  Mr.  Percivail,  you  do  not  either  covet  me 
or  despise  me.  That  is  fine.  It  is  good  to  know  that 
you  do  not  despise  me."  Observing  the  expression  in 
his  eyes,  she  went  on  calmly.  "  Oh,  yes,  I  shall  be  very 
much  please  to  have  you  covet  me.  Zat  —  that  is  all 
right.  But  if  you  despise  me, —  no,  no,  zat  would  be 
terrible." 

For  a  moment  he  was  dashed.  He  did  not  know  how 
to  take  her  remark.  She  was  a  new,  a  strange  type  to 
him.  After  a  sharp,  quick  look  into  her  eyes,  however, 
he  came  to  the  conclusion  that  she  was  absolutely  sin 
cere.  So  far  as  she  was  concerned,  it  was  as  if  she 
had  said  nothing  more  outrageous  than :  "  I  shall  be 
please  to  consider  you  one  of  my  admirers." 

"  My  dear  Madame,"  he  said,  smiling,  "  permit  me 
to  express  the  hope  that  both  of  us  may  go  on  to  the 
end  of  our  days  without  having  our  peace  of  mind  dis 
turbed." 

She  looked  puzzled  for  a  moment,  and  then  favoured 
him  with  her  broad,  good-natured  smile. 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  85 

"  Spoken  like  a  Frenchman,"  she  cried,  and  added, 
"  and  with  equal  sincerity,  I  fear.  Go  your  way,  Mon 
sieur  Percivail.  I  shall  keep  my  gauze.  Some  day 
when  we  are  very  old  people  and  very  old  friends  I  may 
then  be  permitted  to  bandage  your  hands.  At  present, 
however,  the  risk  is  too  great,  eh?  I  am  so  inexpe 
rience.  I  might  by  accident  tie  your  hands  in  my 
clumsiness,  and  zat  —  that  would  make  so  much  trou 
ble  for  Miss  Clinton  to  untie  zem, —  yes  ?  " 

Now  there  was  mockery  in  her  eyes.  His  face  hard 
ened. 

"  I  must  be  on  my  way,"  he  said  curtly.  "  We  have 
been  looking  things  over  down  below.  The  Captain  is 
waiting  for  our  report." 

He  bowed  and  started  off.  She  swung  along  at  his 
side. 

"What  have  you  discover,  Mr.  Percivail?"  she  in 
quired  anxiously. 

"  That,  Madame  Obosky,  is  something  that  will  have 
to  come  from  Captain  Trigger." 

"  I  see.     That  means  it  is  bad.     I  see." 

The  lurching  of  the  ship  threw  her  body  against  his. 
She  righted  herself  promptly,  but  did  not  reveal  the 
slightest  confusion  nor  utter  a  word  of  apology. 

"  By  Jove,  you're  a  cool  one !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  I 
don't  believe  you  know  the  meaning  of  fear.  Don't 
you  realize,  Madame  Obosky,  that  we  are  in  the  gravest 
peril?  Don't  you  know  this  ship  has  but  one  chance  in 
a  thousand  to  pull  through  ?  " 

»  "  Ah,  my  friend,  but  it  has  the  one  chance,  has  it 
not?  Surely  I  know  the  meaning  of  fear.  I  am  afraid 
of  rats  and  snakes  and  thieves  —  and  drunken  soldiers. 
I  am  afraid  of  death, —  terribly  afraid  of  death.  Oh, 
yes,  I  know  what  fear  is,  Mr.  Percivail." 


86  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

"  Then,  why  don't  you  show  it  now? "  he  cried. 
"  Good  Lord,  I  don't  mind  confessing  that  I'm  scared 
half  to  death.  I  don't  want  to  die  like  this, —  like  a 
rat  in  a  trap." 

"  But  you  are  not  going  to  die,"  she  proclaimed. 
"  I  too  would  be  groaning  and  praying  in  my  bed  if  I 
thought  we  were  going  down  to  the  bottom  of  zis  dread 
ful  ocean.  But  we  are  not.  I  have  no  fear.  We  shall 
come  out  all  right  on  top,  and  some  day  we  will  laugh 
and  tell  funny  stories  about  how  everybody  else  was 
frightened  but  us, —  us  apiece,  I  mean." 

"  Well,  you're  a  wonder !  And  how  the  deuce  do 
you  manage  to  keep  your  feet  with  the  ship  rolling  like 
this?" 

"  Two  things  I  have  been  taught,  since  I  am  ten 
years  old.  First,  to  keep  my  head,  and  second  to  keep 
my  feet.  In  my  profession,  one  must  do  both.  You 
will  always  find  me  doing  that.  Good-bye, —  we  part 
here.  You  will  not  forget  zat  —  that  I  have  retain 
the  bandage  for  you?  And  you  will  not  ever  despise 
me?" 

As  she  turned  away  a  roll  that  must  have  caused 
the  wallowing  vessel  to  list  thirty-five  degrees  at  the 
very  least,  sent  her  headlong  across  the  passage.  She 
slipped  down  in  a  heap.  The  same  lurch  had  sent  him 
reeling  against  the  wall  some  distance  away.  She  sat 
up  but  did  not  at  once  attempt  to  arise.  Instead  she 
clutched  frantically  at  her  skirt  to  draw  it  down  over 
her  shapely  ankles  and  calves.  In  the  lantern  light  he 
saw  the  dismayed,  shamed  look  in  her  eyes  and  the 
vivid  blush  of  embarrassment  that  suffused  her  pale 
cheeks.  As  the  ship  rolled  back,  he  moved  forward  to 
assist  her,  but  she  sprang  lightly  to  her  feet  and  hur 
ried  on  ahead  of  him,  disappearing  around  a  corner. 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  87 

"  Well,  by  gosh !  "  he  muttered  aloud  in  his  surprise. 
"  And  she  dances  half  naked  before  thousands  of  people 
every  night!  Can  you  beat  it!  The  last  person  in 
the  world  you'd  think  would  care  a  whoop,  and  she 
turns  out  to  be  as  finicky  about  her  legs  as  your  grand 
mother.  Women  certainly  are  queer." 

With  this  profound  comment  on  the  inconsistency  of 
the  sex,  he  took  himself  off  in  the  direction  of  the  Cap 
tain's  quarters,—  a  forward  cabin  which  served  in  lieu 
of  the  dismantled  bridge. 


CHAPTER  VII 

HE  saw  but  little  of  her  during  the  next  forty- 
eight  hours.     She  seemed  to  avoid  him.     At 
any  other  time  and  in  other  circumstances  he 
undoubtedly  would  have  resented  her  indifference, —  a 
very  common  and  natural  masculine  failing, —  but  in 
these  strenuous  hours  he  was  too  fully  occupied  with  the 
affairs  of  life  and  death.     Once  she  stopped  him  to  in 
quire  if  Miss  Clinton  was  still  able  to  dress  his  wounds. 

"  Once  a  day,"  he  replied.  "  She's  even  pluckier 
than  you  are,  Madame  Obosky." 

Her  eyes  narrowed.     "  Indeed?  " 

"  Yes,  because  she  believes  we  are  going  to  die  — 
every  one  of  us.  It  takes  pluck  to  keep  going  when 
you've  got  that  sort  of  thing  to  face,  doesn't  it?  " 

Her  gesture  took  in  the  dozen  or  more  men  within 
range  of  her  vision.  "  It  should  take  no  more  pluck 
to  keep  a  woman  going  than  a  man,  my  friend.  You 
do  not  call  yourself  plucky,  do  you?  I  do  not  call 
myself  plucky.  On  the  contrary,  I  call  myself  a  cow 
ard.  I  am  afraid  to  stay  in  my  stateroom.  I  like  to 
be  out  in  the  open  like  zis.  One  has  to  be  very,  very 
brave,  Mr.  Percivail,  to  lie  in  one's  bed  all  alone  and 
think  that  death  is  waiting  just  outside  the  thin  little 
walls.  Miss  Clinton  is  splendid,  but  she  is  not  plucky. 
She  is  as  I  am:  afraid  of  the  darkness,  afraid  to  be 
alone,  afraid  to  be  where  she  cannot  know  and  see  all 
zat  is  happening.  She  has  a  woman's  courage,  just 
as  I  have  it, —  if  you  please.  It  is  the  courage  that 

88 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  89 

depends  so  much  on  the  courage  of  others.  You  think 
I  am  brave.  I  am  brave  because  I  am  with  trained, 
efficient  men.  But  if  the  Captain  were  to  come  to  me 
now,  as  I  stand  here,  and  say  zat  the  ship  is  to  sink  in 
ten  minutes  and  that  we  all  must  go  down  with  her, 
would  I  face  it  bravely  ?  No !  I  would  throw  myself 
down  on  the  floor  and  scream  and  pray  and  tear  my 
hair.  Why?  Because  the  men  had  given  up.  I  am 
kept  up  by  the  courage  of  others.  That  is  the  cour 
age  of  woman.  She  must  be  supported  in  her  pain,  in 
her  suffering,  in  her  courage." 

"  Well,  if  you  put  it  that  way,  there  are  very  few 
men  who  would  take  such  an  announcement  from  the 
Captain  calmly." 

"  Perhaps  not,  my  friend.  But  if  there  were  room 
for  but  few  in  the  boats,  who  would  stay  behind  and 
go  down  with  the  ship?  Nine  out  of  every  ten  of  the 
men.  Why?  Not  because  they  are  all  courageous,  I 
grant  you,  but  because  of  the  horrible  conceit  that 
makes  them  our  masters.  Pride  and  conceit  consti 
tute  what  stands  for  courage  in  most  men.  The  wild 
animal  has  no  conceit,  he  has  no  pride.  Does  the  male 
lion  rush  out  to  be  shot  in  place  of  his  mate?  He  do 
not.  He  sneaks  off  in  the  high  reeds  and  leaves  her 
to  take  care  of  herself.  The  Captain  of  this  steamer 
is  so  full  of  pride  zat  he  will  stay  on  it  till  it  goes  under 
the  wave.  It  is  not  courage,  Mr.  Percivail.  It  is  his 
pride  in  the  power  zat  —  that  God  has  give  to  his  sex. 
These  men  here, —  you,  my  friend, —  face  the  danger 
now  so  unflinching  for  why?  Because  for  ages  and 
ages  you  have  believe  in  and  depend  upon  the  man  be 
side  you,  the  men  around  you.  Zat  is  the  difference 
between  man  and  woman.  Woman  believes  in  and  de 
pends  on  man.  She  has  no  faith  in  her  own  sex.  So, 


90  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

you  see,  my  friend,  when  I  say  I  am  brave  and  you 
say  Miss  Clinton  is  plucky,  it  is  all  because  we  have 
men  about  us  who  are  so  proud  and  conceited  zat  they 
will  die  before  they  will  admit  that  they  are  not  as 
helpless  and  as  weak  as  we  are  in  times  like  zis." 

"  You  may  be  right,"  he  mused,  struck  by  her  argu 
ment.  "  It's  usually  pride  that  makes  a  man  stand 
up  and  fight  another,  even  when  he  knows  he's  sure  to 
be  beaten.  It's  neither  confidence  nor  courage.  It's 
just  plain  fear  of  being  a  coward." 

"  You  will  admit  then  that  I  understand  the  won 
derful  male  animal  which  struts  on  two  legs  and  rules 
all  the  other  animals  of  the  world,  eh?  It  is  the  only 
animal  in  the  whole  big  world  zat  —  that  is  completely 
satisfied  with  itself.  So  now,  Mr.  Percivail,  you  have 
the  secret  of  the  so-called  courage  of  the  male  of  our 
species." 

"  I  hope  all  women  haven't  gone  into  the  subject  so 
deeply,"  he  said,  with  a  rueful  smile.  "  You  make 
rather  small  potatoes  of  us." 

"  Ah,  do  not  say  that,"  she  cried,  "  for,  alas,  I  am 
denied  potatoes." 

"  Well,  then,"  he  said,  laughing,  "  if  all  women  un 
derstood  us  as  well  as  you  do,  we  wouldn't  rule  the 
world  very  much  longer.  They'd  yank  us  off  the  ped 
estal  and  revile  us  forevermore." 

"  But  you  do  not  understand  women,  my  friend.  Did 
we  not  bring  you  into  the  world?  Are  you  not  our 
sons,  and  therefore  begotten  to  be  kings?  We  may 
despise  our  husbands,  we  may  loathe  our  brothers  and 
our  fathers,  we  women,  but  our  sons  are  the  gods  we 
worship.  My  dear  Mr.  Percivail,  women  will  go  on 
being  ruled  to  the  end  of  time  unless  they  cease  popu 
lating  the  world  with  sons.  The  mother  of  the  man  is 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  91 

the  humblest  subject  of  the  son  and  yet  the  proudest. 
The  mothers  of  kings,  of  emperors,  of  presidents, —  do 
they  think  of  them  as  kings,  emperors,  presidents? 
No.  They  think  of  them  as  sons.  That  is  why  man 
is  supreme.  That  is  why  he  rules.  To  be  sure,  we 
women  are  not  always  disposed  to  have  our  husbands 
rule,  we  even  go  so  far  as  to  say  they  are  not  fit  to 
rule,  but  alas,  the  men  we  are  permitted  to  know  the 
best  of  all  are  always  the  sons  of  some  one  else,  and  so 
there  you  have  the  endless  chain.  Sons !  Sons ! 
Sons !  Sons  to  create  new  sons, —  sons  without  end, 
amen !  God  bless  our  sons !  " 

"  And  I  say  God  bless  our  mothers !  " 

"  In  that  one  little  sentence,  Mr.  Percivail,  spoke 
from  the  heart,  you  have  reveal  the  secret  history  of 
the  world.  You  have  account  for  everything." 

"  You  are  a  million  years  old,  Madame  Obosky,"  he 
said,  looking  into  her  deep,  unfathomable  eyes. 

She  smiled.  "  So?  And  which  of  my  sons,  Mr.  Per 
civail,  do  you  think  I  love  the  most?  Cain  or  Abel?  " 

"  It  would  take  a  woman  to  answer  that  question. 
There's  one  thing  certain,  however.  You  loved  both  of 
them  more  than  you  loved  Adam." 

"  True.  But  I  followed  Adam  out  of  the  Garden  of 
Eden  and  I  have  never  left  his  heels  from  zat  day  to 
this.  What  more  could  any  man  ask?  " 

On  the  second  morning  after  the  storm,  the  lookout 
fixed  his  straining  eyes  on  a  far-distant,  shadowy  line 
that  had  not  been  a  part  of  the  boundless  horizon  the 
day  before.  Dawn  was  breaking,  night  was  lifting  her 
sheet  from  the  new-born  day.  He  waited.  He  could 
not  be  sure.  Minutes  that  seemed  like  hours  passed. 
Then  suddenly  his  hoarse  shout  rose  out  of  the  si 
lence  : 


92  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

"  Land  ho  !  " 

Down  into  the  heart  of  the  ship  boomed  the  cry, 
taken  from  the  lookout's  lips  by  one  after  another  of 
the  weary  men  below.  The  sweating,  exhausted  toil 
ers  who  manned  the  pumps  paused  for  a  moment,  then 
fell  to  work  again  revitalized.  Out  from  the  cabins, 
up  from  every  nook  and  corner  of  the  ship  scrambled 
the  excited  horde,  fully  dressed,  their  faces  haggard 
with  doubt,  their  eyes  aglow  with  joy.  Land!  In 
every  round  little  window  gleamed  a  face, —  for  a  mo 
ment  only  along  the  portside.  Nothing  but  the  same 
endless  ocean  on  the  port  side  of  the  ship.  Water! 
Sick  and  wounded  drew  themselves  up  to  the  portholes 
and  peered  out  from  their  cells  for  the  first  time. 

"Where?  .  .  .  Where?  .  .  .  WThere?  "  ran  the  wild, 
eager  cry  of  the  scurrying  throng,  and  there  was  dis 
appointment  —  bitter  disappointment  in  their  voices. 
They  had  been  tricked.  There  was  no  land  in  sight! 
The  glasses  of  the  ship's  officers,  clustered  far  forward, 
were  directed  toward  some  point  off  the  starboard  bow, 
but  if  there  was  land  over  there  it  was  not  visible  to 
the  naked  eye.  A  junior  engineer  saluted  Captain 
Trigger  and  left  the  group. 

"  There  is  land  ahead, —  a  long  way  off,"  he  an 
nounced  as  he  passed  through  the  throng  in  the  sa 
loon  deck. 

Up  above  the  clamour  of  questions  shouted  from  all 
sides  as  the  crazed  people  flocked  behind  the  messenger 
of  hope,  rose  the  voice  of  Morris  Shine. 

"  Land  ahoy !  Ahoy-yoy-yoy !  "  he  yelled  over  and 
over  again,  his  chin  raised  like  that  of  a  dog  baying 
at  the  moon. 

Every  person  on  deck  was  either  carrying  a  life-belt 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  93 

or  was  already  encased  in  one.  Grim  orders  of  the 
night  just  past.  Here  and  there  were  to  be  seen  men 
who  clutched  tightly  the  handles  of  suitcases  and  kit 
bags !  Evidently  they  were  expecting  to  step  ashore 
at  once.  In  any  case,  they  belonged  to  the  class  of 
people  who  never  fail  to  crowd  their  way  down  the 
gang-plank  ahead  of  every  one  else.  The  fashionable 
ocean  liners  always  have  quite  a  number  of  these  on 
board,  invariably  in  the  first  cabin. 

Percival  ranged  the  decks  in  quest  of  Ruth  Clinton. 
She  was  well  aft  on  the  boat  deck,  where  the  rail  was 
not  so  crowded  as  it  was  forward.  Her  arm  was  about 
the  drooping,  pathetic  figure  of  her  aunt.  They  were 
staring  intently  out  over  the  water, —  the  girPs  figure 
erect,  vibrant,  alive  with  the  spirit  of  youth,  her  com 
panion's  sagging  under  the  doubt  and  scepticism  of 
age.  He  hesitated  a  moment  before  accosting  them. 
Nicklestick,  the  Jew,  was  excitedly  retailing  the  news 
to  them.  He  went  so  far  as  to  declare  that  he  could 
see  land  quite  clearly, —  and  so  could  they  if  they 
would  only  look  exactly  where  he  was  pointing.  He 
claimed  to  have  been  one  of  the  very  first  men  on  board 
to  see  the  land. 

Ruth  was  hatless.  Her  braided  brown  hair  had  been 
coiled  so  hastily,  so  thoughtlessly  that  stray  strands 
fell  loose  about  her  neck  and  ears  to  be  blown  gaily  by 
the  breeze  across  her  cheek.  Her  blouse  was  open  at 
the  neck,  her  blue  serge  jacket  flared  in  the  wind. 
Every  vestige  of  the  warm,  soft  colour  had  left  her 
face.  She  was  deathly  pale  with  emotion. 

Percival  was  suddenly  conscious  of  a  mist  bedim- 
ming  his  eyes. 

Several  people  were  grouped  near  them  at  the  rail, 


94  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

listening  to  Nicklestick.  The  stowaway  joined  them. 
As  if  sensing  his  presence,  Ruth  turned  suddenly  and 
saw  him. 

"  Oh !  "  she  cried,  tremulously.  "  Have  —  have  you 
seen  it,  Mr.  Percival?  " 

"  No,"  he  replied.  "  It  won't  be  visible  for  an  hour 
or  so  longer.  It's  off  there  all  right,  though.  The 
lookout,  Captain  Trigger  and  several  others  got  a 
glimpse  of  it  before  the  sun  began  to  pull  the  mist  up 
to  obscure  it  for  a  little  while.  That's  mist  over 
there,"  he  went  on,  turning  to  Nicklestick.  "  You 
couldn't  see  the  Andes  Mountains  if  they  were  where 
that  strip  of  land  is  hidden.  It  won't  be  long,  Miss 
Clinton,  before  we  all  can  see  it." 

"How  far  away  is  it?"  she  asked,  controlling  her 
voice  with  an  effort.  "  Do  they  know?  Can  they  esti 
mate?  " 

"I'll  tell  you  what  let's  do,"  he  said  abruptly. 
"  Let's  go  up  on  the  sun  deck.  I've  got  Mr.  Gray's 
glasses.  We  can  see  better  up  there.  Let  me  assist 
you,  Mrs.  Spofford.  The  sun  deck  is  pretty  badly 
smashed  up  and  littered  with  all  sorts  of  wreckage,  but 
we  can  manage  it  all  right." 

Mrs.  Spofford  looked  at  him  intently  for  a  moment. 

"  I  remember  you  now,"  she  said.  "  Are  you  sure, — 
are  you  positive  there  is  land  over  there?  " 

"  I  have  Captain  Trigger's  word  for  it." 

"  And  mine,  too,"  added  Mr.  Nicklestick.  "You 
may  rest  assured,  Mrs.  Spofford,  that  we  will  all  be  on 
dry  land  before  many  hours." 

Percival  leaned  close  to  the  speaker  and  said  in  a 
very  low  but  emphatic  tone : 

"You  don't  know  a  damn'  thing  about  it,  so  keep 
your  trap  closed.  If  you're  a  man,  you  won't  go  on 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  95 

raising   false  hopes   in   the  breasts   of   these  women." 

Nicklestick's  jaw  fell.     He  whispered: 

"  My  God, —  ain't  we  —  you  don't  mean  to  say  there 
is  a  chance  we  won't  be  able  to  — " 

But  Percival  had  turned  away  with  the  two  women. 
Mrs.  Spofford  took  his  arm,  leaning  heavily  against 
him.  Her  figure  had  straightened,  however.  He  had 
given  her  the  needed  confidence. 

They  made  their  way  up  the  steps  leading  to  the 
topmost  deck.  Others  had  already  preceded  them.  A 
dozen  men  and  women  were  looking  out  over  the  sea 
through  their  binoculars.  They  recognized  Landover, 
Madame  Careni-Amori  (clutching  her  jewel  case),  Jo- 
seppi,  Fitts  and  one  or  two  more.  Olga  Obosky  was 
well  forward,  seated  on  the  edge  of  a  partially  wrecked 
skylight  and  ventilator.  Her  three  dancing  girls  were 
with  her,  closely  grouped. 

Percival  purposely  remained  near  the  steps.  He 
knew  full  well  that  the  ship's  hours  were  numbered.  It 
was  only  a  question  of  time  when  she  would  founder. 
In  the  lee  of  one  of  the  big  stacks  they  huddled  close 
together  and  waited  for  the  lifting  of  the  veil.  The 
wind  was  soft  but  strong  up  there  at  the  top  of  the 
vessel.  He  took  hope  in  the  fact  that  it  was  blowing 
toward  the  shores  of  that  unseen  land,  and  that  slowly 
but  surely  the  Doraine  was  drifting  thither. 

Suddenly,  as  if  a  curtain  were  being  raised,  a  far-off 
line  appeared  on  the  surface  of  the  waters.  Higher 
rose  the 'curtain,  and  like -magic  the  line  developed  into 
an  irregular  ridge,  the  ends  of  which  sank  below  the 
horizon  far  to  the  right  and  left. 

Percival  felt  the  girl's  hand  on  his  arm.  He  shot  a 
swift  glance  at  her  face.  It  was  turned  away.  She 
was  staring  at  the  mystic  panorama  that  was  being 


96  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

unveiled  off  there  on  the  rim  of  the  world.  Her  eyes 
were  bright,  her  lips  were  parted  in  the  ecstasy  of  hope 
revived,  she  was  breathing  deeply.  The  pulse  in  her 
smooth  white  neck  was  beating  rapidly,  rythmically. 
He  could  see  it.  He  laid  his  bandaged  hand  firmly 
upon  hers  and  pressed  it  tightly  to  his  arm.  She  did 
not  look  around.  Her  every  thought  was  centred  upon 
the  unfolding  vision. 

"  There  are  trees,"  she  murmured,  enthralled. 
"  Trees, —  and  hills !  See,  Auntie, —  but  oh,  how  far 
away  they  are !  " 

For  many  minutes  they  stood  there  without  speaking. 
Then  from  all  sides  came  the  clamour  of  voices, —  shouts 
of  joy,  cheers, —  laughter!  She  looked  down  at  the 
clumsy  object  that  imprisoned  her  hand,  then  swiftly 
up  into  his  eyes.  A  warm  flush  spread  over  her  face. 

«I_I  couldn't  help  it,"  he  muttered,  "  It  —  it 
looked  so  helpless." 

"  It  isn't  half  as  helpless  as  yours,  Mr.  Percival," 
she  said,  and  smiled.  She  waited  a  moment  before  with 
drawing  her  hand.  "May  I  have  the  glasses,  please? 
Had  you  forgotten  them?  " 

"  Completely,"  he  replied. 

Later,  while  Mrs.  Spofford  was  peering  through  the 
glasses,  she  drew  him  aside. 

"  Tell  me  about  the  water  in  the  hold,"  she  said  in  a 
low  tone.  "  Is  it  serious  ?  " 

He  looked  grave.  "  Very.  If  you  will  take  a  peep 
over  the  side  of  the  ship,  you'll  see  how  low  down  she 
is  in  the  water." 

"  My  aunt  doesn't  know  the  ship  is  leaking,"  she 
went  on,  hurriedly.  "  I  want  to  keep  it  from  her  as 
long  as  possible."  He  nodded  his  head. 

"  Mr.  Mott  figures  we'll  stay  afloat  for  ten  or  twelve 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  97 

hours, —  maybe  longer.  I  will  see  to  it  that  you  and 
Mrs.  Spoff ord  get  into  one  of  the  boats  in  case  we  — 
well,  just  in  case,  you  know.  We  will  be  given  ample 
warning,  Miss  Clinton.  Things  don't  look  as  hopeless 
as  they  did  last  night."  He  pointed  toward  the  land. 
"  It  looks  like  heaven,  doesn't  it?  " 

Her  face  clouded.  "  But  only  a  very  few  of  us 
may  — "  she  stopped,  shuddering. 

"  You  poor  little  girl ! "  he  cried  brokenly.  He 
steadied  himself  and  went  on:  "It  wouldn't  sv^prise 
me  in  the  least  if  every  blessed  one  of  us  got  safely 
ashore." 

"  You  do  not  believe  that,  Mr.  Percival.  I  can  tell 
by  the  look  in  your  eyes.  I  want  you  to  promise  me 
one  thing.  If  we  have  to  take  to  the  boats,  you  will 
come  with  us  — " 

He  drew  himself  up.  "  My  dear  Miss  Clinton,  there 
is  quite  a  difference  between  being  a  stowaway  on  an 
ocean  liner  and  being  one  in  a  lifeboat.  I  have  no 
standing  on  this  ship.  I  have  no  right  in  one  of  her 
boats.  I  am  the  very  last  person  on  board  to  be  con 
sidered." 

She  looked  searchingly  into  his  eyes,  her  own  wide 
with  comprehension.  "  You  mean  you  will  make  no 
effort  to  leave  the  ship  until  every  one  else  is  — " 

He  checked  her  with  a  gesture  of  his  hand.  "  I  may 
be  one  of  the  first  to  leave.  But  I'll  not  rob  any  one 
else  of  his  place  in  a  boat  or  his  space  on  one  of  those 
rafts.  I'll  swim  for  it." 

Slowly  the  land  crept  down  upon  the  Doraine.  The 
illusion  was  startling.  The  ship  seemed  to  be  lying 
absolutely  motionless ;  it  was  the  land  that  approached 
instead  of  the  other  way  round.  A  thin  white  beach 


98  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

suddenly  emerged  from  the  green  background  to  the 
left,  to  the  right  an  ugly  mass  of  rocks  took  shape, 
stretching  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach.  Farther  in 
land  rose  high,  tree  covered  hills,  green  as  emeralds  in 
the  blazing  sunlight.  On  a  sea  of  turquoise  lolled  the 
listless  Doraine. 

Soundings  were  taken  from  time  to  time.  Even  the 
bottom  of  the  ocean  was  coming  up  to  meet  the  Do 
raine.  Its  depth  appreciably  lessened  with  each  suc 
cessive  measurement.  From  fifty  fathoms  it  had  de 
creased  to  ten  since  the  first  line  was  dropped. 

At  four  o'clock,  Captain  Trigger  ordered  a  boat 
lowered  and  manned  by  a  picked  crew  in  charge  of  the 
Second  Engineer.  The  Doraine  was  about  five  miles 
off  shore  at  the  time,  and  was  drifting  with  a  noticeably 
increased  speed  directly  toward  the  rock-bound  coast. 
He  had  hoped  she  would  go  aground  in  the  shallow 
waters  off  the  sandy  beach,  but  there  was  now  no 
chance  that  such  a  piece  of  good  fortune  was  in  store 
for  her.  She  was  going  straight  for  the  huge  black 
rocks. 

The  boat's  crew  rowed  in  for  observations.  Even 
before  they  returned  to  report,  the  anxious  officers  on 
board  the  vessel  had  made  out  a  narrow  fissure  in  the 
rocky  coast  line.  They  assumed  that  it  was  the  mouth 
of  a  small  river.  The  Second  Engineer  brought  back 
the  astonishing  information  that  this  opening  in  the 
coast  was  the  gateway  to  a  channel  that  in  his  judg 
ment  split  the  island  into  two  distinct  sections.  That 
it  was  not  the  mouth  of  a  river  was  made  clear  by  the 
presence  of  a  current  so  strong  that  his  men  had  to 
exert  themselves  to  the  utmost  to  prevent  the  boat  be 
ing  literally  sucked  into  the  channel  by  the  powerful 
tide,  which  apparently  was  at  its  full.  This  opening, 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  99 

—  the  water  rushed  into  it  so  swiftly  that  he  was  satis 
fied  .  it  developed  into  a  gorge  farther  back  from  the 
coast, —  was  approximately  two  hundred  yards  wide, 
flanked  on  either  side  by  low  lying,  formidable  bas 
tions  of  rock.  The  water  was  not  more  than  fifty 
feet  deep  off  the  entrance  to  the  channel. 

Gradually  the  prow  of  the  Doraine  swung  around 
and  pointed  straight  for  the  cleft  in  the  shore.  The 
ship,  two  miles  out,  had  responded  to  the  insidious 
pressure  of  the  current  and  was  being  drawn  toward 
the  rocks, —  at  first  so  slowly  that  there  was  scarcely 
a  ripple  off  her  bows ;  then,  as  she  lumbered  onward, 
she  began  to  turn  over  the  water  as  a  ploughshare 
turns  over  the  land. 

At  precisely  six  o'clock  she  slid  between  the  rocky 
portals  and  entered  a  canal  so  straight  and  true  that 
it  might  have  been  drilled  and  blasted  out  of  the  earth 
under  the  direction  of  the  most  skilful  engineers  in  the 
world. 

Soundings  were  hastily  taken.  Discovering  that  the 
water  was  not  deep  enough  even  at  high  tide  to  sub 
merge  the  vessel  when  the  inevitable  came  to  pass  and 
she  sank  to  the  bottom,  Captain  Trigger  renewed  his 
efforts  to  release  the  anchor  chains,  which  had  been 
caught  and  jammed  in  the  wreckage.  He  realized  the 
vital  necessity  for  checking  the  Doraine  in  her  flight 
before  she  accomplished  the  miracle  of  passing  unhin 
dered  through  the  channel  and  out  into  the  open  sea 
beyond.  The  swiftness  of  the  current  indicated  plainly 
enough  that  this  natural  canal  was  of  no  great  length. 

The  ship  slid  on  between  the  tree  lined  banks.  The 
trees  were  of  the  temperate  zone,  with  spreading  limbs, 
thick  foliage  and  hardy  trunks.  There  were  no  palms 
visible,  but  in  the  rarely  occurring  open  spaces  a  large 


100  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

shrub  abounded.  This  was  instantly  recognized  by 
Percival,  who  proclaimed  it  to  be  the  algaroba,  a  plant 
commonly  found  on  the  Gran  Chaco  in  Argentina. 
While  the  woodland  was  thick  there  was  nothing  about 
it  to  suggest  the  tropical  jungle  with  its  impenetrable 
fastnesses. 

The  keel  of  the  half-sunken  Doraine  was  scraping 
ominously  on  the  bed  of  the  channel.  She  shivered  and 
swerved  from  frequent  contact  with  submerged  rocks, 
but  held  her  course  with  uncanny  steadiness,  while  every 
soul  on  board  gazed  with  stark,  despairing  eyes  at  the 
land  which  mocked  them  as  they  passed.  Far  on  ahead 
loomed  the  lofty  hills,  and  beyond  them  lay  —  What? 
The  ocean  ? 

Gradually  the  passage  widened.  Its  depth  also  in 
creased.  The  ship  no  longer  scraped  the  bottom,  she 
no  longer  caromed  off  the  sunken  rocks.  On  the  other 
hand,  water  poured  into  her  interior  with  increasing 
force  and  volume,  indicating  a  disastrous  rent  forward. 
She  was  sloshing  along  toward  the  centre  of  a  basin 
which  appeared  to  be  half  a  mile  wide  and  not  more 
than  a  mile  long.  Directly  ahead  of  her  the  hills  came 
down  to  meet  the  water.  A  dark  narrow  cut,  with 
towering  sides,  indicated  an  outlet  for  the  tiny,  inland 
sea.  This  gorge,  toward  which  the  Doraine  was  be 
ing  resistlessly  drawn,  appeared  to  be  but  little  wider 
than  the  ship  itself. 

Almost  in  the  shadow  of  the  hills,  and  within  a  dozen 
ship-lengths  of  the  sinister  opening,  the  worn,  ex 
hausted,  beaten  Doraine  came  to  rest  at  the  end  of  her 
final  voyage.  She  shivered  and  groaned  under  the  jar 
ring  impact,  forged  onward  half  her  length,  heeled  over 
slightly  —  and  died  1  She  was  anchored  for  ever  in 
the  tiny  landlocked  sea,  proud  leviathan  whose  days 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  JC1 

had  been  spent  in  the  boundless  reaches  of  the  open 
deep. 

And  here  for  the  centuries  to  come  would  lie  the 
proud  Doraine,  guided  to  her  journey's  end  by  the 
pilot  Chance,  moored  for  all  time  in  the  strangest 
haven  ever  put  into  by  man. 

Behind  the  stranded  vessel  stretched  centuries  in 
calculable,  and  in  all  these  centuries  no  man  had  en 
tered  here.  Screened  from  the  rest  of  the  world,  un- 
tended  by  chortling  tugs,  unheralded  by  raucous  sirens, 
welcomed  only  by  primeval  solitude,  the  Dorame  had 
come  to  rest. 

She  settled  down  on  her  bed  of  rocks  to  sleep  for 
evermore,  a  mottled  monster  whose  only  covering  was 
the  night;  indifferent  to  storm  and  calm,  to  time  and 
tide,  to  darkness  and  light,  she  sat  serene  in  her  little 
sea.  Her  lofty  walls  towered  high  above  the  waves 
that  broke  tremblingly  against  them,  as  if  afraid  of 
this  strange  object  from  another  world  that  could  rest 
upon  the  bottom  of  the  ocean  and  yet  be  so  far  above 
them. 

Reported  "  Lost  with  all  on  board !  " 


CHAPTER  VIII 

CAPTAIN  TRIGGER  and  a  dozen  men  stood 
on  the  boat  deck  with  guns  and  revolvers, 
facing  several  hundred  sullen,  determined  men 
and  women  from  the  steerage.  Night  had  not  yet 
fallen;  the  shadow  of  the  hills,  however,  was  reaching 
half  way  across  the  oval  pool ;  gloom  impenetrable  had 
settled  on  the  wooded  shores. 

With  the  striking  of  the  Doraine,  nearly  every  one 
on  board  was  hurled  to  the  decks.  As  she  heeled  over 
five  or  six  degrees  in  settling  herself  among  the  rocks, 
a  panic  ensued  among  the  ignorant  people  of  the 
steerage.  They  scrambled  to  their  feet  and  made  a 
rush  for  the  boats,  shouting  and  screaming  in  their 
terror.  Other  passengers  were  trampled  under  foot 
and  sailors  standing  by  the  davits  were  hurled  aside. 

Captain  Trigger,  anticipating  just  such  a  stampede, 
rushed  up  with  members  of  the  gun  crew.  The  gaunt, 
broken  old  master  of  the  Doraine  drove  the  horde  back 
from  the  boats,  but  as  he  stood  there  haranguing 
them  in  good  maritime  English  he  could  see  plainly 
enough  that  they  were  not  to  be  so  easily  subdued. 
The  first  panic  was  over,  but  they  were  crazed  by  the 
fear  that  had  gripped  them  f 6r  days ;  they  believed 
that  the  ship  was  soon  to  sink  beneath  their  feet ; 
safety  lay  not  more  than  a  hundred  yards  away, —  and 
it  was  being  denied  them  by  this  heartless,  unfeeling 
despot. 

They  were  mainly  low-caste  Portuguese  bound  for 

102 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  103 

Rio  and  Bahia,  and  they  had  obeyed  him  through  all 
those  tortuous  days  out  on  the  deep  where  he  was  the 
shepherd  and  they  the  flock.  But  now, —  now  they 
could  well  afford  to  turn  upon  and  rend  him,  for  he  had 
brought  them  safe  to  land  and  they  no  longer  owed  him 
anything ! 

"  My  God,  I  don't  want  to  shoot  any  of  them," 
groaned  the  Captain,  steadying  himself  against  the 
rail.  "  But  they've  got  guns,  and  they're  crazy. 
I—" 

Some  one  touched  his  arm,  and  a  firm,  decisive  voice 
spoke  in  his  ear. 

"  I'm  used  to  handling  gangs  like  this,  Captain  Trig 
ger.  They  don't  understand  you,  but  they'll  damn 
soon  understand  me,  if  you'll  turn  the  job  over  to  me. 
I'm  not  trying  to  be  officious,  sir,  and  I'm  not  even 
hinting  that  you  can't  bring  'em  to  their  senses.  I 
know  how  to  handle  'em  and  you  don't,  that's  alL- 
They're  not  sailors,  you  see.  And  it  isn't  mutiny. 
They  need  a  boss,  sir, —  that's  what  they  need.  And 
they  need  him  damned  quick,  so  if  you  don't  mind  say 
ing  the  word, —  they're  ready  to  make  a  rush,  and  if  — " 

"  Go  ahead,  Percival, —  if  you  can  hold  them  — ' 

"  Say  no  more !  "  shouted  Percival,  and  stepped  reso 
lutely  forward.  His  hands  were  bare, —  swollen,  red 
and  ugly;  his  eyes  were  as  cold  as  steel,  his  voice  as 
sharp  as  a  keen-edged  sword.  He  spoke  in  Spanish 
to  the  wavering,  threatening  horde. 

"  You  damned,  sneaking,  low-lived  cowards  !  What 
sort  of  swine  are  you?  Have  you  no  thought  for  the 
women  you've  trampled  upon  and  beaten  out  of  your 
path, —  yrur  own  women,  as  well  as  the  others,—  think 
of  them  •.  .d  ask  yourselves  if  you  are  men.  I'm  in 
command  01  chis  ship  now,  and,  by  God,  I'm  going  to 


104  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

let  you  get  into  those  boats  and  start  for  shore.     Don't 
cheer!     You  don't  know  what's  coming  to  you.     I'm 
going  to  turn  that  cannon  on  you  up  there  and  blow 
every  one  of  you  to  hell  and  gone  before  you  get  fifty 
feet  from  the  side  of  this  ship.     You  don't  believe  that, 
eh?     Well,  that's  exactly  what  I'm  going  to  do.     Lieu 
tenant  Platt ! "     He  called  over  his  shoulder  in  Eng 
lish  to  the  young  commander  of  the  gun's  crew.     "  Get 
some  of  your  men  up  there  and  train  that  gun  so  as  to 
blow  these  boats  to  smithereens.     Quick  1 "     In  a  half- 
whisper  to  the  Captain :     "  It's  all  right.     I  know  what 
I'm  talking  about."     Then  to  the  crowd :     "  We  don't 
want  you  on  board  this  ship  a  minute  longer  than  we 
can  help.     We've  got  no  room  for  dogs  here   among 
decent   white   men    and   women.     Do   you    understand 
that?     We  don't  want  to  have  anything  more  to  do 
with  you,  either  here  or  on  shore.     I'm  going  to  wipe 
you  out,  every  damned  one  of  you, —  men  women  and 
children.     You're    not   fit   to   live.     You're    going    to 
climb  into  those  boats  now  and  get  off  this  ship.     You'll 
never  realize  how  safe  you  are  here  till  you  get  down 
there  in  the  water  and  hear  that  gun  go  off.     Come 
on !     Get  a  move !     We're  through  with  you,  now  and 
for  ever.     Nobody's  going  to  stop  you.     I'm  even  going 
to  have  the  boats  lowered  for  you,  so  as  not  to  delay 
matters."     He  shouted  after  Lieutenant  Platt :     "  Be 
lively,  please.     You've  got  your  orders.     We'll  make 
short  work  of  this  pack  of  wolves."     To  Captain  Trig 
ger,   authoritatively :     "  Withdraw  your   men,    sir.      I 
am  going  to  let  them  leave  the  ship.     At  once,   sir! 
Do  you  mean  to  disobey  me,  sir?  "     He  gave  the  cap 
tain  a  sly  wink. 

Then   as   the  bewildered  master   withdrew  with   his 
armed  men,  he  turned  once  more  to  the  mob.     "  Come 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  105 

on !  Step  lively,  now !  No  rushing !  Take  your  turn. 
Every  blasted  one  of  you,  I  mean.  What  the  hell  are 
you  hanging  back  for, —  you?  You  were  so  darned 
eager  to  go  a  little  while  ago,  what's  the  matter  with 
you  now?  No  one  s  trying  to  stop  you.  Here  are  the 
boats.  Put  up  your  guns  and  knives,  and  pile  in. 
You're  absolutely  free  to  go,  you  swine.  We'll  be 
damned  good  and  rid  of  you,  and  that's  all  we're  ask 
ing.  It's  a  pity  to  waste  powder  and  cannon-balls  on 
you,  when  we  may  have  use  for  all  we've  got  later  on, 
killing  the  lions  and  tigers  and  anacondas  up  there  in 
the  woods,  but  I'm  going  to  do  it." 

He  stepped  back.  Not  a  man  or  woman  moved. 
They  stood  transfixed,  packed  in  a  huddled  mass  along 
the  deck.  Then  a  woman  cried  out  for  mercy.  The 
cry  was  taken  up  by  other  women.  Percival  halted 
and  faced  them  once  more. 

"  Get  into  those  boats !  "  he  roared  savagely.  "  It 
won't  do  you  a  bit  of  good  to  whine  and  pray  and 
squeal.  I'm  through  with  you.  You've  got  to  — 
Well?" 

Several  of  the  men  edged  forward,  some  of  them  try 
ing  to  smile. 

"  Would  you  kill  us  when  we  are  only  trying  to  save 
our  lives  ?  "  called  out  one  of  them,  finding  his  courage 
and  voice. 

"  I  don't  want  to  talk  to  you.     Get  in !  " 

"  We  have  as  much  right  to  remain  on  this  ship  as 
anybody  else,"  shouted  another.  "  We  paid  for  our 
passage.  We  are  honest,  hard-working — " 

"  No  use !  I'll  give  you  ten  minutes  to  climb  into 
those  boats." 

There  was  a  moment's  silence. 

"  And  what  will  you  do  if  we  refuse  to  leave  the 


106  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

ship  ?  "  cried  one  of  the  men.  "  Be  quiet !  "  he  bawled 
at  the  whimpering  women.  "  We  cannot  hear  what  the 
gentleman  has  to  say." 

"  You'll  soon  find  out  what  I'll  do,  if  you  don't  obey 
me  inside  of  ten  minutes,"  replied  Percival. 

"  But  the  ship  is  not  going  to  sink  any  more,"  pro 
tested  another,  looking  over  the  rail  timidly.  "  She 
is  safe.  We  do  not  wish  to  leave  now." 

Captain  Trigger  and  Mr.  Mott  joined  Percival.  In 
an  undertone  he  told  them  what  he  had  said  to  the 
mob. 

"  And  now,  gentlemen,"  he  whispered  in  conclusion, 
"  it's  up  to  you  to  intercede  in  their  behalf.  They're 
as  tame  as  rabbits  now.  They  know  the  ship's  all 
right,  and  they  believe  I  intend  to  blow  'em  to  pieces 
if  they  once  put  off  in  the  boats.  Start  in  now,  Cap 
tain,  and  argue  with  me.  Plead  for  them.  They 
know  who  I  am.  They  know  I  come  from  the  hills  and 
they  think  I'm  a  bloodthirsty  devil.  They're  like  a  lot 
of  cattle.  Most  of  them  are  simple,  honest,  God-fear 
ing  people, —  and  if  we  handle  them  properly  now  we'll 
not  have  much  trouble  with  them  in  the  future.  And 
only  the  Good  Lord  knows  what  the  future  is  going  to 
bring." 

So  the  three  of  them  argued,  two  against  one. 
Finally  Percival  threw  up  his  hands  in  a  gesture  of  com 
plete  surrender. 

"  All  right,  Captain.  I  give  in.  Perhaps  you  are 
right.  I  suppose  it  would  be  butchery." 

There  were  a  few  in  the  crowd  who  understood  Eng 
lish.  These  edged  forward  eagerly,  hopefully.  They 
called  out  protestations  against  the  "  slaughter." 

"  Tell  them  you  have  reconsidered,  Mr.  Percival," 
said  the  Captain.  "  They  are  to  remain  on  board," 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  107 

Excited  shouts  went  up  from  the  few  who  under 
stood,  and  then  the  word  went  among  the  others 
that  they  were  to  be  spared.  There  were  cries  of 
relief,  joy,  gratitude,  and  not  a  few  fell  upon  their 
knees ! 

Percival  stood  forth  once  more.  Silence  fell  upon 
the  throng. 

"  The  Captain  has  put  in  a  plea  for  you,  and  I  have 
decided  to  grant  it.  You  may  remain  on  board.  Now, 
listen  to  me !  No  one  is  to  leave  this  ship  until  to 
morrow  morning.  We  are  safe  here.  We  are  stuck 
fast  on  the  bottom,  and  nothing  can  happen  to  us  at 
present.  Tomorrow  we  will  see  what  is  best  to  be  done. 
Every  man  and  woman  here  is  to  return  to  the  task  he 
was  given  by  Mr.  Mott  at  the  beginning  of  our  troubles. 
We've  got  to  eat,  and  sleep,  and  —  Wait  a  minute ! 
Well,  all  right, —  beat  it,  if  you  feel  that  way  about 
it." 

He  stood  watching  them  as  they  excitedly  withdrew 
toward  the  bow  of  the  ship,  breaking  up  into  clattering 
groups,  all  of  them  talking  at  once. 

Captain  Trigger  laid  his  hand  on  the  young  man's 
shoulder. 

"  If  it  had  not  been  for  you,  Percival,  this  deck 
would  now  be  red  with  blood, —  and  some  of  us  would 
be  dead.  You  saved  a  very  ticklish  situation.  I  take 
off  my  hat  to  you,  and  I  say,  with  a  full  heart,  that  I 
shall  never  again  doubt  your  ability  to  handle  men. 
No  one  but  an  American  could  have  tricked  that  mob 
as  you  did,  my  lad." 

From  various  points  of  vantage  the  foregoing  scene 
had  been  witnessed  by  uneasy,  alarmed  persons  from 
the  upper  cabins.  Overwhelmed  and  dismayed  by  the 
rush  of  the  yelling  mob,  the  elect  had  fled  for  safety, 


108  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

urged  by  a  greater  fear  than  any  that  had  gone  be 
fore, —  the  fear  of  rioting  men. 

A  few  of  them,  more  daring  and  inquisitive  than  the 
rest,  had  ventured  recklessly  into  the  zone  of  danger. 
Among  them  were  Ruth  Clinton  and  Madame  Olga 
Obosky,  who,  disregarding  the  command  of  Mr.  Mott, 
were  the  only  women  to  venture  beyond  the  protecting 
corner  of  the  deck  building.  They  stood  side  by  side, 
bracing  themselves  against  the  downward  slope  of  the 
deck.  Half-way  forward  were  Trigger  and  the  armed 
gunners,  and  beyond  them  the  dense,  irresolute  mass 
of  humanity.  Percival,  in  rounding  the  corner  to  go 
to  the  assistance  of  Captain  Trigger,  observed  with 
dismay  the  exposed  position  in  which  the  two  women 
had  placed  themselves.  He  paused  to  cry  out  to  them 
sharply : 

"  What  are  you  doing  here?  Get  back  to  the  other 
side.  Can't  you  see  there  is  likely  to  be  shooting? 
Don't  stand  there  like  a  couple  of  idiots !  You're  right 
in  line  if  that  gang  begins  to  fire." 

"  He  is  tearing  off  his  bandages,"  cried  Ruth,  as 
Percival  hurried  on. 

Madame  Obosky  was  silent,  her  gaze  fixed  intently 
on  the  brisk,  aggressive  figure  of  the  man  who  had 
called  them  idiots.  She  understood  every  word  he  ut 
tered  to  the  Portuguese.  Her  eyes  glistened  with  pride 
when  he  stepped  forward  to  tackle  the  mob  single- 
handed,  and  as  he  went  on  with  his  astonishing  speech 
she  actually  broke  into  a  soft  giggle.  Her  companion 
looked  at  her  in  amazement. 

"  Why  do  you  laugh  ? "  she  demanded  hotly. 
"  Those  dreadful  creatures  may  tear  him  to  pieces.  He 
is  unarmed  and  defenceless.  They  could  sweep  him  — " 

"  You  would  laugh  also  if  you  understood,"  inter- 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  109 

rupted  Olga,  her  eyes  dancing.  "  Oh,  what  a  grand  — 
what  do  3'ou  call  it?  —  bluff?  What  a  magnificent 
bluff  he  is  doing !  It  is  beautiful.  See, —  they  whis 
per  among  themselves, —  they  have  back  down  com 
pletely.  Wait !  I  will  presently  tell  you  what  he  have 
said  to  them." 

"  I  never  dreamed  any  man  could  be  so  fearless. 
Look  at  the  odds  against  him.  There  are  scores  of 
them, —  and  they  — " 

"  Pooh !  Do  you  suppose  he  would  stand  up  and 
fight  them  if  they  rushed  at  him  ?  Not  he !  He  would 
turn  and  run  as  fast  as  he  could.  He  is  no  fool,  my 
dear.  He  is  a  very  intelligent  man.  So  he  would  run 
if  they  make  a  single  move  toward  him." 

"  I  think  this  is  rather  a  poor  time  to  accuse  him 
of  cowardice,  Madame  Obosky,  in  view  of  what  he  — " 

"  Have  I  accused  him  of  cowardice?  " 

"  I'd  like  to  know  what  you  call  it.  You  say  he 
would  run  if  they  — " 

"  But  that  would  not  be  cowardice.  It  would  be 
the  simplest  kind  of  common  sense.  He  is  so  very  sure 
of  himself.  It  is  not  courage.  It  is  confidence.  That 
is  his  strength.  He  would  be  a  fool  to  stand  in  front 
of  them  empty-handed  if  they  were  to  charge  upon  him. 
Maybe  when  you  have  known  him  as  long  as  I  have,  you 
will  realize  he  is  not  a  fool, —  about  himself  or  any  one 
else." 

Ruth  stared  at  her.  "  Unless  I  am  greatly  mistaken, 
Madame  Obosky,  I  have  known  Mr.  Percival  as  long  if 
not  longer  than  you  have." 

"  You  do  not  know  him  at  all,"  rejoined  the  Russian 
brusquely.  "  Be  still,  please !  I  must  hear  what  he  is 
saying  to  them  now."  A  little  later  she  turned  to  the 
American  girl  and  laid  her  hand  on  her  arm.  "  For- 


110  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

give  me,  if  I  was  rude  to  you.  I  am  so  very  much 
older  than  you  that  I  —  how  old  are  you,  Miss  Clin 
ton?  " 

"  I  am  twenty-five,"  replied  the  other,  surprised  into 
replying. 

"  And  I  am  twenty-six,"  said  Madame  Obosky,  as  if 
she  were  at  least  twice  the  age  of  her  companion. 
"  See !  They  are  dispersing.  It's  all  over.  Come ! 
Let  us  go  back  to  the  other  side." 

"  I  am  not  ready  to  go  back  to  the  other  side,"  pro 
tested  the  American  girl,  resisting  the  hand  on  her 
arm.  "  Why  should  we  go  back,  now  that  the  danger 
is  over?  " 

"  Because  we  must  not  let  him  catch  us  here,"  urged 
Olga  in  some  agitation. 

"  And  why  not,  pray  ?  " 

The  Russian  looked  at  her  in  astonishment.  "  But 
surely  you  heard  him  tell  us  to  go  back  to  the  other 
side.  You  heard  him  call  us  idiots,  Miss  Clinton?  " 

And  Ruth  Clinton  suffered  herself  to  be  hurried  in 
continently  around  the  corner  of  the  deck  building. 

"  Once,  in  Moscow,  I  saw  a  Grand  Duke  confront  a 
mob  of  students  who  had  gathered  in  the  street  near  his 
house.  They  were  armed  and  they  had  come  to  destroy 
this  man  himself.  There  were  hundreds  of  them.  He 
walked  straight  toward  them,  his  head  erect,  his  shoul 
ders  squared,  and  when  they  stopped  he  spoke  to  them 
as  if  they  were  dogs.  When  he  had  finished,  he  turned 
his  back  upon  them  and  walked  away.  They  might 
have  filled  him  with  bullets, —  but  they  did  not  fire  a 
shot.  At  the  corner  he  entered  his  carriage  and  dis 
appeared.  And  then  what  did  he  do?  He  fainted, 
that  Grand  Duke,  he  did.  Fainted  like  a  stupid,  silly 
young  girl.  But  while  he  was  standing  before  zat  — 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  111 

that  mob  of  terrorists  he  was  the  strongest  man  in  Rus 
sia.  Nevertheless,  he  was  afraid  of  them.  You  have 
therefore  the  curious  spectacle  to  perceive,  Miss  Clin 
ton,  of  one  man  being  afraid  of  hundreds,  and  of  hun 
dreds  of  men  at  the  same  time  being  afraid  of  one. 
Man,  he  is  a  queer  animal,  eh?  " 

It  was  not  long  before  the  doubts  and  fears  of  all 
on  board  the  Doraine  gave  way  to  a  strange,  unnatural 
state  of  exhilaration.  It  represented  joy  without  hap 
piness,  relief  without  security,  exultation  without  con 
viction, —  for,  after  all,  there  still  remained  unanswered 
the  question  that  robbed  every  sensation  of  its  thrill. 
While  they  were  singing  the  hymns  of  thanksgiving  in 
the  saloon  that  night,  and  listening  to  the  fervent 
prayers;  while  they  ate,  drank  and  were  merry,  their 
thoughts  were  not  of  the  day  but  of  the  morrow.  What 
of  the  morrow?  In  the  eyes  of  every  one  who  laughed 
and  sang  dwelt  the  unchanging  shadow  of  anxiety;  on 
every  face  was  stamped  an  expression  that  spoke  more 
plainly  than  words  the  doubts  and  misgivings  that 
constituted  the  background  of  their  jubilation.  They 
had  escaped  the  sea,  but  would  they  ever  escape  the 
land?  Had  God,  in  answer  to  their  complaints  and 
prayers,  directed  them  to  a  land  from  which  the  hand 
of  man  would  never  rescue  them?  Were  they  isolated 
here  in  the  untraversed  southern  seas,  cast  upon  an 
island  unknown  to  the  rest  of  the  world?  Or  were 
they,  on  the  other  hand,  within  reach  of  human  agencies 
by  which  the  world  might  be  made  acquainted  with  their 
plight? 

Uppermost  in  every  mind  was  the  sickening  recol 
lection,  however,  that  for  days  they  had  ranged  the 
sea  without  sighting  a  single  craft.  They  were  far 
from  the  travelled  lanes,  they  were  out  of  the  worth- 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

while  world.  Hope  rested  solely  on  the  possibility  that 
the  hills  and  forests  hid  from  view  the  houses  and 
wharves  of  a  desolate  little  sea-town  set  up  by  the  far- 
reaching  people  of  the  British  Isles. 

The  story  of  Percival's  achievement  was  not  long  in 
going  the  rounds.  It  went  through  the  customary 
process  of  elaboration.  By  the  time  it  reached  his 
ears, —  through  the  instrumentality  of  Mr.  Morris 
Shine,  the  motion  picture  magnate, —  it  had  assumed 
sufficient  magnitude  to  draw  from  that  enterprising 
gentleman  a  bona  fide  offer  of  quite  a  large  sum  for 
the  film  rights  in  case  Mr.  Percival  would  agree  to  re- 
enact  the  thrilling  scene  later  on.  In  fact,  Mr.  Shine, 
having  recovered  his  astuteness  and  his  courage  simul 
taneously,  was  already  working  at  the  preliminary  de 
tails  of  the  most  "  stupendous  "  picture  ever  conceived 
by  man.  His  deepest  lament  now  was  that  he  had  neg 
lected  to  bring  a  good  camera  man  down  from  New 
York,  so  that  on  the  day  of  the  explosion  he  could 
have  "  got  "  the  people  actually  jumping  overboard, 
and  drowning  in  plain  sight  —  (although  he  did  not  see 
them  because  of  the  trouble  he  was  having  to  get  a 
seat  in  one  of  the  life-boats), —  and  the  wounded  scat 
tered  over  the  decks,  the  fire,  the  devastation,  the  de 
parture  and  return  of  the  boats,  the  storm  and  all  that 
followed,  including  himself  in  certain  judiciously  pre 
served  scenes,  and  the  whole  production  could  have  been 
made  at  practically  no  cost  at  all.  There  never  had 
been  such  an  opportunity,  complained  Mr.  Shine  the 
moment  he  felt  absolutely  certain  that  the  opportunity 
was  a  thing  of  the  past. 

"  No  wonder  he  got  away  with  it,"  said  Mr.  Land- 
over  to  a  group  of  rejuvenated  satellites.  "  He  is  hand 
in  glove  with  them,  that  fellow  is.  I  wouldn't  trust 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

him  around  the  corner.  Why,  it's  perfectly  plain  to 
anybody  with  a  grain  of  intelligence  that  he's  the 
leader  of  that  gang  of  anarchists.  All  he  had  to  do 
was  to  speak  to  them, —  in  their  own  language,  mind 
you, —  and  back  they  slunk  to  their  quarters.  They 
obeyed  him  because  he  is  their  chosen  leader,  and  that's 
all  there  is  to  this  —  What  say,  Fitts?  " 

Mr.  Fitts,  who  was  not  a  satellite  but  a  very  irri 
tating  Christian  gentleman,  cleared  his  throat  and  said : 

"  I  didn't  speak,  Mr.  Landover.  I  always  make  a 
noise  like  that  when  I  yawn.  It's  an  awfully  middle- 
class  habit  I've  gotten  into.  Still,  don't  you  think  one 
obtains  a  little  more  —  shall  we  say  enjoyment?  —  a 
little  more  enjoyment  out  of  a  yawn  if  he  lets  go  and 
puts  his  whole  soul  into  it?  Of  course,  it  isn't  really 
necessary  to  utter  the  '  hi-ho-hum ! '  quite  so  vocifer 
ously  as  I  do, —  in  fact,  it  might  even  be  better  to  omit 
it  altogether, —  if  possible, —  when  some  one  else  is 
speaking.  There  are,  I  grant  you,  other  ways  of  ex 
pressing  one's  complete  mastery  of  the  art  of  yawning, 
such  as  a  prolonged  but  audible  sigh,  or  a  sort  of 
muffled  howl,  or  even  a  series  of  blissful  little  shrieks 
peculiar  to  the  feminine  of  the  species, —  any  one  of 
these,  I  admit,  is  a  trifle  more  elegant  and  up-to-date, 
but  they  all  lack  the  splendid  resonance, —  you  might 
even  say  grandiloquence, —  of  the  old-fashioned  '  hi-ho- 
hum  ! '  to  which  I  am  addicted.  Now,  if  you  will  con 
sider  — " 

"  My  God !  "  exclaimed  the  banker,  with  a  positively 
venomous  emphasis  on  the  name  of  the  Deity.  "  Who 
wants  to  know  anything  about  yawns?  " 

Mr.  Fitts  looked  hurt.  "  I  am  sorry.  My  mistake. 
I  thought  you  were  trying  to  change  the  subject  when 
you  interrupted  my  yawn." 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

"  That  fellow's  a  damn'  fool,"  said  the  banker,  as 
Fitts  strolled  off  to  join  another  group. 

"  Try  one  of  these  cigars,  Mr.  Landover,"  said  Mr. 
Nicklestick  persuasively.  "  Of  course,  they're  nothing 
like  the  kind  you  smoke,  but  — " 

"  Is  mine  out  ?  So  it  is.  No,  thank  you.  I'll  take 
a  match,  however,  if  you  have  one  about  you." 

Four  boxes  were  hastily  thrust  upon  the  great  finan 
cier. 

"  Haf  you  noticed  how  poor  the  matches  are  lately, 
Mr.  Landover?  "  complained  Mr.  Block. 

"  As  for  this  vagabond  being  superintendent  of  a 
mining  concession  up  in  Bolivia,"  continued  Landover, 
absentmindedly  sticking  Mr.  Nicklestick's  precious  box 
of  matches  into  his  own  pocket,  "  that's  all  poppy 
cock.  He's  an  out-and-out  adventurer.  You  can't 
fool  me.  I've  handled  too  many  men  in  my  time.  I 
sized  him  up  right  from  the  start.  But  the  devil  of 
it  is,  he's  got  all  the  officers  on  this  boat  hypnotized. 
And  most  of  the  women  too.  I  made  it  a  point  to 
speak  to  Mrs.  Spofford  and  her  niece  about  him  this 
morning, —  and  the  poor  girl  has  been  making  quite 
a  fool  of  herself  over  him,  you  may  have  observed. 
Mrs.  Spofford  owns  quite  a  block  of  stock  in  our  insti 
tution,  so  I  considered  it  my  duty  to  put  a  flea  in  her 
ear,  if  you  see  what  I  mean." 

"  Certainly,  certainly,"  said  Mr.  Nicklestick. 

"  She  should  have  been  very  grateful,"  said  Mr. 
Block. 

Mr.  Landover  frowned.  "  I'm  going  to  speak  to  her 
again  as  soon  as  she  has  regained  her  strength  and 
composure.  Nerves  all  shot  to  pieces,  you  understand. 
Everything  distorted, —  er  —  shot  to  pieces,  as  I  say. 
I  dare  say  I  should  have  had  more  sense  than  to  —  er 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  115 

—  ahem !  —  two  or  three  days'  rest,  that's  what  she 
needs,  poor  thing." 

"  Absolutely,"  said  Mr.  Nicklestick. 

"  You  can't  tell  a  woman  anything  when  she's  upset,'* 
said  Mr.  Block,  feelingly. 

"  Miss  Clinton  is  a  very  charming  young  lady,"  said 
Mr.  Nicklestick,  giving  his  moustache  a  slight  twist. 
"  I  should  hate  to  see  her  lose  her  head  over  a  fellow 
like  him." 

"  She  is  a  splendid  girl,"  said  Landover  warmly. 
"  One  of  the  oldest  families  in  New  York.  She  deserves 
nothing  but  the  best." 

"  That's  right,  that's  right,"  assented  Mr.  Nickle 
stick.  "  I  don't  know  when  I've  met  a  more  charming 
young  lady,  Mr.  Landover." 

"  I  didn't  know  you  had  met  her,"  observed  the 
banker  coldly. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  replied  Mr.  Nicklestick.  "  We  were  in 
the  same  lifeboat,  Mr.  Landover,  you  know, —  all  night, 
you  know,  Mr.  Landover." 


CHAPTER  IX 

EARLY  the  next  morning,  Percival  turned  out 
long  before  there  were  any  sounds  from  the 
galley  or  dining-room.  The  sun  had  not  yet 
cleared  the  tree-tops  to  the  east;  the  decks  of  the 
Doraine  were  still  wet  with  dew.  A  few  sailors  were 
abroad;  a  dull-eyed  junior  officer  moodily  picked  his 
way  through  the  debris  on  the  forward  deck.  Birds 
were  singing  and  chattering  in  the  trees  that  lined 
the  shore;  down  at  the  water's  edge,  like  sentinels  on 
duty,  with  an  eye  always  upon  the  strange,  gigantic 
intruder,  strutted  a  number  of  stately,  bright-plumaged 
birds  of  the  flamingo  variety  —  (doubtless  they  were 
flamingoes)  ;  the  blue  surface  of  the  basin  was  sprinkled 
with  the  myriad  white,  gleaming  backs  of  winged  fisher 
men,  diving,  flapping,  swirling;  on  high,  far  above  the 
hills,  soared  two  or  three  huge  birds  with  wings  out 
spread  and  rigid,  monarchs  of  all  that  they  surveyed. 
The  stowaway  leaned  on  the  port  rail  and  fixed  his 
gaze  upon  the  crest  of  the  severed  hill,  apparently  the 
tallest  of  the  half  dozen  or  so  that  were  visible  from 
his  position. 

With  powerful  glasses  he  studied  the  wooded  slope. 
This  hill  was  probably  twelve  or  fourteen  hundred  feet 
high.  He  thought  of  it  as  a  hill,  for  he  had  lived  long 
in  the  heart  of  the  towering  Andes.  Behind  him  lay 
the  belt  of  woodland  that  separated  the  basin  from  the 
open  sea,  a  scant  league  away.  The  cleft  through  the 
hill  lay  almost  directly  ahead.  It's  walls  apparently 
were  perpendicular;  a  hundred  feet  or  less  from  the 

116 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  117 

pinnacle,  the  opening  spread  out  considerably,  indi 
cating  landslides  at  some  remote  period,  the  natural 
sloughing  off  of  earth  and  stone  in  the  formation  of 
this  narrow,  unnatural  passage  through  the  very  centre 
of  the  little  mountain.  For  at  least  a  thousand  feet, 
however,  the  sides  of  the  passage  rose  as  straight  as  a 
wall.  That  the  mountain  was  of  solid  rock  could  not 
be  doubted  after  a  single  glance  at  those  sturdy,  un 
flinching  walls,  black  and  sheer. 

"  Well,  what  do  you  make  of  it  ?  "  inquired  a  voice 
at  his  elbow.  He  turned  to  find  Mr.  Mott  standing 
beside  him. 

"  Earthquake,"  he  replied.  "  Thousands  of  years 
ago,  of  course.  Split  the  island  completely  in  two." 

"  Sounds  plausible,"  mused  the  First  Officer.  "  But 
if  that  is  the  case,  how  do  you  account  for  the  shal- 
lowness  of  the  water  in  the  passage  and  out  here  in  the 
basin?  An  earthquake  violent  enough  to  split  that 
hill  would  make  a  crack  in  the  earth  a  thousand  fa 
thoms  deep." 

"  I  have  an  idea  that  if  we  took  soundings  in  this 
basin  we'd  find  a  section  twenty  or  thirty  feet  wide  in 
the  centre  of  it  where  we  couldn't  touch  bottom.  The 
same  would  be  true  of  the  passage  if  we  plumbed  the 
middle.  When  we  came  through  it  the  ship  scraped 
bottom  time  and  again.  As  a  matter  of  fact, —  the 
way  I  figure  it  out, —  she  was  simply  bumping  against 
the  upper  edges  of  a  crevice  that  reaches  down  God 
knows  how  far.  We  took  no  soundings,  you  will  re 
member,  until  we  swung  out  into  this  pool.  I'll  bet 
my  head  that  that  cut  through  the  hill  yonder  is  a  mile 
deep.  Earthquake  fissures  seldom  go  deeper  than  that, 
I've  heard.  Generally  they  are  mere  surface  cracks, 
a  hundred  feet  deep  at  the  outside.  But  this  one, — 


118  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

My  God,  it  gives  me  the  creeps,  that  crack  in  the  earth 
does." 

"  Umph !  "  said  Mr.  Mott,  his  elbows  on  the  rail  be 
side  the  young  man,  his  chin  in  his  hands.  He  was 
looking  down  at  the  water.  "  Captain  Trigger  is  plan 
ning  to  send  a  couple  of  boats  outside  to  survey  the 
coast.  I  dare  say  he'll  be  asking  you  to  go  out  in  one 
of  them.  You're  a  civil  engineer  and  so  he  feels  — " 

"  Excuse  me,  Mr.  Mott,  but  what's  the  sense  of  send 
ing  boats  out  to  explore  the  coast  before  we  find  out 
how  big  the  island  is  ?  " 

"What's  the  sense?  Why,  how  are  we  to  find  out 
how  big  the  island  is  unless  we  make  the  circuit  of  it? 
And  how  in  thunder  are  we  to  find  out  that  there  isn't 
a  village  or  some  sort  of  trading  port  on  it  —  What 
are  you  pointing  up  there  for?  " 

Percival's  finger  was  levelled  at  the  top  of  the  higher 
half  of  the  bisected  mountain. 

"  See  that  hill,  Mr.  Mott?  Well,  unless  we're  on  a 
darned  sight  bigger  island  than  I  think  we  are,  we  can 
see  from  one  end  of  it  to  the  other  from  the  top  of 
that  hill.  It  isn't  much  of  a  climb.  A  few  huskies 
with  axes  to  cut  a  path  through  the  underbrush,  and 
we  might  get  up  there  in  a  few  hours.  I've  been  figur 
ing  it  out.  That's  why  I  got  up  so  early.  Had  it  on 
my  mind  all  night.  The  sensible  thing  to  do  is  to 
send  a  gang  of  us  up  there  to  have  a  look  around. 
Strange  Captain  Trigger  never  thought  of  it.  I  sup 
pose  it's  because  he's  an  old  sea-dog  and  not  a  land 
lubber." 

Mr.  Mott  coughed.  "  I  fancy  he  would  have  thought 
of  it  in  good  time." 

"  Well,  in  case  he  doesn't  think  of  it  in  time,  you 
might  suggest  it  to  him,  Mr.  Mott." 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  119 

The  result  of  this  conversation  was  the  formation 
of  a  party  of  explorers  to  ascend  the  mountain.  They 
were  sent  ashore  soon  after  breakfast,  well-armed, 
equipped  with  axes  and  other  implements,  boat-hooks, 
surveying  instruments,  and  the  most  powerful  glasses 
on  board.  Percival  was  in  command.  The  party  was 
made  up  of  a  dozen  men,  half  of  them  from  the  gun 
crew,  with  an  additional  complement  of  laborers  from 
the  steerage. 

Ruth  Clinton,  as  soon  as  she  learned  of  the  proposed 
expedition,  sought  out  Percival  and  insisted  upon  re- 
bandaging  his  hands. 

"  You  must  not  go  into  all  that  tangle  of  brush 
wood  with  your  hands  unprotected,"  she  declared,  ob 
stinately  shaking  her  head  in  response  to  his  objections. 
"  Don't  be  foolish,  Mr.  Percival.  It  won't  take  me 
five  minutes  to  wrap  them  up.  Sit  down, —  I  insist. 
You  are  still  one  of  my  patients.  Hold  out  your 
hand !  " 

"  They  are  ever  so  much  better,"  he  protested,  but 
he  obeyed  her. 

"  Of  course  they  are,"  she  agreed,  in  a  matter-of- 
fact  tone.  "  You  did  not  give  me  a  chance  last  night 
to  tell  you  how  splendid  you  were  in  tackling  that  crazy 
mob.  I  witnessed  it  all,  you  know.  Madame  Obosky 
and  I." 

"  Then,  you  didn't  beat  it  when  I  told  you  to,  eh?  " 

"  Certainly  not.  What  are  you  going  to  do  about 
it?" 

"What  can  I  do?  I  can  only  say  this:  I'm  glad 
Captain  Trigger's  opinion  of  me  is  based  on  my  ability 
to  reason  with  an  ignorant  mob  and  not  on  my  power 
to  intimidate  a  couple  of  very  intelligent  young 
women." 


120  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

"  I  wouldn't  have  missed  it  for  worlds,'*  she  said 
coolly.  She  looked  up  into  his  eyes,  a  slight  frown 
puckering  her  brow.  "  Do  you  know,  Madame  Obosky 
had  the  impertinence  to  say  that  you  would  have  turned 
tail  and  fled  if  those  people  had  shown  fight." 

He  grinned.  "  She's  an  amazing  person,  isn't  she? 
Wonderful  faculty  for  sizing  the  most  of  us  up." 

"  You  would  have  run  ?  " 

"  Like  a  rabbit,"  he  answered,  unabashed.  "  That's 
a  little  too  tight,  I  think,  Miss  Clinton.  Would  you 
mind  loosening  it  up  a  bit  ?  " 

"Oh,  I'm  sorry.  Is  that  better?  Now  the  other 
one,  please." 

"  Yes,  I'm  an  awful  coward,"  he  said,  after  a  long 
silence. 

She  looked  up  quickly.  Something  in  his  eyes 
brought  a  faint  flush  to  her  cheek.  For  a  second  or 
two  she  met  his  gaze  steadily  and  then  her  eyes  fell, 
but  not  before  he  had  caught  the  shy,  wondering  ex 
pression  that  suddenly  filled  them.  He  experienced  an 
almost  uncontrollable  desire  to  lay  his  clumsy  hand 
upon  the  soft,  smooth  brown  hair.  Through  his  mind 
flashed  a  queer  rush  of  comparison.  He  recalled  the 
dark,  knowing  eyes  of  the  Russian  dancer,  mysterious 
and  seductive, —  man-reading  eyes  from  which  nothing 
was  concealed, —  and  contrasted  them  with  the  clear, 
honest,  blue-grey  orbs  that  still  could  fall  in  sweet  con 
fusion.  His  heart  began  to  pound  furiously,  he  felt 
a  queer  tightening  of  the  throat.  He  was  afraid  to 
trust  his  voice.  How  white  and  soft  and  gentle  were 
her  hands, —  and  how  beautiful  they  were. 

Suddenly  she  stroked  the  bandaged  hand, —  as  an 
amiable  manicurist  might  have  done  —  and  arose. 

"  There !  "  she  said,  composedly.     Her  cheek  was  cool 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

and  unflushed,  her  eyes  serene  and  smiling.  "  Now  you 
may  go,  Mr.  Percival.  Good  luck !  Bring  back  good 
news  to  us.  I  dreamed  last  night  that  we  were  ma 
rooned,  that  we  would  have  to  stay  here  for  ever." 

"  All  of  us?  "  he  asked,  a  trifle  thickly. 

"  Certainly,"  she  replied,  after  the  moment  required 
for  comprehension.  Her  eyes  were  suddenly  cold  and 
uncompromising. 

"  If  I  never  come  back,"  he  began,  somewhat  dashed, 
"  I'd  like  you  to  remember  always,  Miss  Clinton,  that 
I  —  well,  that  I  am  the  most  grateful  dog  alive. 
You've  been  corking." 

"  But  it  isn't  possible  you  won't  come  back,"  she 
cried,  and  he  was  happy  to  see  a  flicker  of  alarm  in  her 
eyes.  "What  —  what  could  happen  to  you?  It 
isn't—" 

"  Oh,  all  sorts  of  things,"  he  broke  in,  much  in  the 
same  spirit  as  that  which  dominates  the  boy  who  wishes 
he  could  die  in  order  to  punish  his  parents  for  correct 
ing  him. 

"  Are  —  are  you  really  in  earnest?  " 

66  Would  you  care  —  very  much  ?  " 

She  hesitated.  "  Haven't  I  wished  you  good  luck, 
Mr.  Percival?  " 

"  Would  you  mind  answering  my  question?  " 

"  Of  course  I  should  care, —  very  much  indeed," 
she  replied  calmly.  "  I  am  sure  that  everybody  would 
be  terribly  grieved  if  anything  were  to  happen  to  you 
out  there." 

"  Well, —  good-bye,  Miss  Clinton.  I  guess  they're 
waiting  for  me." 

"  Good-bye !  Oh,  how  I  wish  I  were  in  your  place ! 
Just  to  put  my  foot  on  the  blessed,  green  earth  once 
more.  Good-bye !  And  —  and  good  luck,  again." 


122  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

"  If  you  will  take  a  pair  of  glasses  and  watch  the 
top  of  that  hill, —  there  is  a  bare  knob  up  there,  you 
see, —  you  will  know  long  before  we  come  back  whether 
this  island  is  inhabited  or  not.  I  am  taking  an  Ameri 
can  flag  with  me.  If  we  do  not  see  another  flag  float 
ing  anywhere  on  this  island,  I  intend  to  plant  the  Stars 
and  Stripes  on  that  hill, —  just  for  luck!  " 

She  walked  a  few  steps  at  his  side,  their  bodies 
aslant  against  the  slope  of  the  deck. 

"And  if  you  do  not  raise  the  flag,  we  shall  know 
at  once  that  —  that  there  are  other  people  here  ?  "  she 
said,  her  voice  eager  with  suppressed  excitement.  "  It 
will  mean  that  ships  — "  Her  voice  failed  her. 

"  It  will  mean  home, —  some  day,"  he  returned  sol 
emnly. 

The  one  remaining  port-side  boat  was  lowered  a  few 
minutes  later  and  to  the  accompaniment  of  cheers  from 
the  throng  that  lined  the  rails,  the  men  pulled  away, 
heading  for  a  tiny  cove  on  the  far  side  of  the  basin. 
The  shore  at  that  point  was  sloping  and  practically 
clear  of  undergrowth. 

It  was  while  Percival  was  waiting  to  take  his  place 
in  the  boat  that  Olga  Obosky  hurried  up  to  him. 

"  I  have  brought  my  luck  piece  for  you,"  she  said, 
and  revealed  in  her  open  palm  a  small  gold  coin,  worn 
smooth  with  age  and  handling.  u  Carry  it,  my  friend. 
Nothing  will  happen  to  you  while  it  is  in  your  posses 
sion.  It  was  given  me  by  the  son  of  a  Grand  Duke. 
It  was  his  lucky  piece.  It  brought  me  luck,  for  he  was 
killed  zat  very  same  day,  and  so  I  was  saved  from  him. 
Keep  it  in  your  pocket  till  you  come  safely  back  and 
then  —  then  you  shall  return  it  to  me,  because  I  would 
not  be  without  my  luck,  no."  She  slipped  her  hand 
deep  into  his  trousers  pocket.  "  There  is  no  hole. 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

That  is  good.  I  have  place  it  there.  It  is  safe.  Au 
revoir !  You  will  have  good  luck,  my  friend." 

Withdrawing  her  warm  hand  from  his  pocket  she 
turned  and  walked  swiftly  away. 

The  throng  on  board  the  Doraine  watched  the  party 
land ;  hats  and  handkerchiefs  were  waved  as  the  ad 
venturers  turned  for  a  last  look  behind,  before  they 
disappeared  into  the  forest. 

Hours  passed, —  long  interminable  hours  for  those 
who  were  not  engaged  in  the  active  preparations  for 
the  landing  of  people  and  stores.  Captain  Trigger 
was  making  ready  to  transfer  the  passengers  from  the 
ship  at  the  earliest  possible  moment.  He  was  far  from 
certain  that  the  Doraine  would  maintain  its  rather 
precarious  balance  on  the  rocks.  With  safety  not 
much  more  than  a  stone's  throw  away,  he  was  deter 
mined  to  take  no  further  risk. 

At  last  a  shout  went  up  from  some  one  on  the  fore 
castle  deck.  It  was  taken  up  by  eager  voices.  Out 
upon  the  bald  crest  of  the  mountain  straggled  the  first 
of  the  explorers  to  reach  the  goal.  They  were  plainly 
visible.  One  after  another  the  rest  of  the  party  ap 
peared.  The  illusion  was  startling.  It  was  as  if  they 
had  actually  emerged  from  the  tree-tops.  With  strain 
ing  eyes  the  observers  below  watched  the  group  of  fig 
ures  outlined  against  the  sky.  They  spoke  in  subdued 
tones.  As  time  went  on  and  the  flag  was  not  unfurled, 
they  took  hope ;  eyes  brightened,  the  hushed  tones  in 
creased  to  a  cheerful,  excited  clatter,  the  tenseness 
that  had  held  them  rigid  for  so  long  gave  way  before 
the  growing  conviction  that  another  flag  already  flut 
tered  somewhere  beyond  the  screening  hills. 

And  then,  when  hope  was  highest,  the  Stars  and 
Stripes  went  up ! 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

Captain  Trigger  assembled  the  ship's  company  on 
the  forward  deck  later  in  the  day.  The  landing  party 
returned  about  three  o'clock.  Acting  on  advance  in 
structions,  they  made  their  report  in  private  to  the 
Captain,  denying  all  information  to  the  clamorous  pas 
sengers.  A  brief  conference  of  officers,  to  which  a 
number  of  men  from  the  first  cabin  were  invited,  was 
held  immediately  after  Percival's  return.  A  course  of 
action  was  discussed  and  agreed  upon,  and  then  all  on 
board  were  summoned  to  the  open  deck  to  hear  the  re 
sult  of  the  expedition. 

Percival  reported  the  following  facts  and  conclu 
sions  : 

1.  The  island  was  approximately  fifteen  miles  long 
and  six  or  seven  miles  wide  in  the  centre.  The  basin 
in  which  the  Doraine  rested  was  about  midway  between 
the  extreme  points,  and  about  two  miles  inland  from 
the  northern  shore.  The  southern  slope  of  the  range 
descended  to  a  flat  plain,  or  perhaps  moor,  some  two 
miles  across  at  its  broadest  point  and  ran  in  varying 
width  from  one  end  of  the  island  to  the  other.  It  was 
green  and  almost  entirely  devoid  of  timber.  The  cen 
tral  eminence  from  which  the  observations  were  taken 
was  the  loftiest  of  a  range  of  ten  or  twelve  diminishing 
hills  that  formed  what  might  actually  be  described  as 
the  backbone  of  the  island.  The  eastern  extremity  ta 
pered  off  to  a  long,  level,  low-lying  promontory  that 
ended  in  a  point  so  sharp  and  wedge-like  that  it  bore 
a  singular  resemblance  to  the  forward  deck  and  prow 
of  a  huge  ironclad.  The  hills,  as  they  approached  the 
plateau,  terminated  altogether  a  couple  of  miles  from 
the  tip  of  land.  The  western  half  of  the  island  (strictly 
speaking,  it  was  a  separate  bit  of  land,  cut  off  from 
its  neighbour  by  the  ribbon-like  channel),  was  of  a 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

more  rugged  character,  the  hills,  in  fact,  extending  to 
the  sea,  forming,  no  doubt,  steep  and  precipitous  cliffs, 
rising  directly  from  the  water's  edge. 

(Since  his  return,  Percival  had  painted  on  a  large 
piece  of  canvas  a  fairly  accurate  outline  map  of  the 
bisected  island  as  it  had  appeared  to  him  from  the  top 
of  the  mountain.  This  crude  map  was  hung  up  in  full 
view  of  the  spectators,  and  served  him  well  in  an  effort 
to  make  clear  his  deductions.  His  original  sketch  is 
reproduced  later  on  in  this  chronicle.) 

2.  There  was  no  visible  sign  of  past  or  present  hu 
man  habitation.     Absolutely  nothing  appeared  to  in 
dicate  that  man  had  ever  attempted  to  claim  or  occupy 
this  virgin  land. 

3.  The  channel  through  the  mountain  was  less  than 
one  hundred  feet  wide.     The  walls  of  this  gorge  at  one 
point  were   fully  seven  hundred  feet  high,   absolutely 
perpendicular,   and  of   solid   rock.     It  was   as  if  the 
hill  had  been  split  wide  open  with  one  blow  of  a  tre 
mendous  broad-ax.     Beyond  the  elevation  the  channel 
spread  out  fan-fashion,  creating  a  funnel-like  bay  or 
inlet  from  the  sea. 

4.  There  was  no  other  land  in  sight.     As  far  as  the 
eye  could  reach  with  the  aid  of  lenses  there  was  nothing 
but  water,  a  mighty  waste  of  water. 

5.  The  wind,  which  had  veered  around  to  the  south, 
was  cold  and  dry. 

6.  A  curving  beach  of  almost  snowy  whiteness  ex 
tended  for  a  mile  or  so  along  the  northern  shore,  about 
half  way  between  the  entrance  to  the  channel  and  the 
eastern  point  of  land.     Inside  the  fringe  of  trees  that 
lined  this  beach  stretched  what  appeared  to  be  a  long 
strip  of  rolling  meadow-land,  reaching  far  up  the  hill 
sides. 


126  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

7.  Monkeys,  parrots  and  snakes  abounded  in  the  for 
est.     An  occasional  gay-plumaged  bird  of  the  toucan 
variety,  but  larger  than  the  ordinary  South  American 
species,  was  seen,  while  large  numbers  of  plump  birds 
of  the  tinamou  family  went  drumming  off  through  the 
forest  at  the  approach  of  the  party.     Penguins  strutted 
in  complete  "  full  dress  "  among  the  rocks  of  the  south 
ern   shore.     A   dead   armadillo    of   extraordinary   di 
mensions  was  found  near  the  foot  of  the  slope.     It  was 
at  least  thrice  the  size  of  the  common  South  American 
mammal.     The  same  could  be  said  of  the  single  iguana 
encountered.     This  large  lizard,  which  was  alive,  must 
have  been  fully  ten  feet  from  head  to  tail,  and  gave  rise 
to  the  belief  that  the  supposedly  extinct  iguanodon, 
described  by  the   scientists   as   attaining   a  length  of 
thirty  feet,  might  any  day  be  discovered  in  the  fast 
nesses  of  this  unexplored  land.     The  mere  existence  of 
this  rather  amiable,  unfrightened  monster  was  of  the 
greatest  significance.     If  it  were  known  to  man,  why 
had  it  never  been  reported  in  zoological  or  natural  his 
tory  journals? 

8.  The  trees  on  the  mountain-side  were  thick  and 
stunted,  with  interlocking  limbs  that  created  a  sort  of 
endless  canopy  which  the  sun  was  unable  to  penetrate. 
The  cool,  dry  wind  that  swept  the  slope  would  account, 
however,  for  the  surprising  absence  of  moisture  in  soil 
and  vegetation  in  the  dense  shade  of  the  trees.     Oak, 
elm,  spruce,  even  walnut,  and  other  trees  of  a  sturdy 
character  indigenous  to  the  temperate  zone  were  iden 
tified.     WThat  appeared  to  be  a  clump  of  cypress  trees, 
fantastic,  misshapen  objects  that  seemed  to  shrink  back 
in  terror  from  the  assaulting  breakers,  stood  out  in 
bold  relief  upon  a  rocky  point  to  the  south  and  west 
of  the  observation  hill.     Their  gaunt,  twisted  trunks 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

leaned  backward  from  the  sea ;  their  shorn  limbs,  racked 
by  gales,  were  raised  as  if  in  supplication  to  the  sombre 
forest  behind  them.  Trunks  of  enormous  trees  that 
had  fallen  perhaps  a  century  ago  were  found  half- 
buried  in  the  earth,  while  scattered  along  the  northern 
base  of  the  range,  overlooking  the  downs,  a  few  of  their 
gigantic  counterparts,  alive  and  flourishing,  raised 
their  lofty  heads  far  above  the  surrounding  forest,  and 
stood  like  sentinels,  guarding  the  plain. 

9.  A  small  river  wound  its  devious  way,  with  serpen 
tine  crooks  and  curves,  through  the  downs  and  across 
the  meadow,  emptying  into  the  ocean  some  distance 
east  of  the  gleaming  beach.  That  its  source  was  far 
up  in  the  secretive  hills  was  not  a  matter  of  conjecture, 
however;  the  incessant  hiss  and  roar  of  a  cataract  was 
plainly  heard  by  the  investigators. 

Here  is  the  crude,  hastily  sketched  map  of  the  island 
as  made  by  Percival : 


1.  Position   of   stranded   vessel  in  8.  Crest    of    hill    from    which    ob- 

basin.  serrations    were    taken    with 

2.  Entrance    to    channel    from    the  range     extending     east     and 

north.  west. 

3.  Entrance    to    channel    from    the  9.  Point     of    rocks     with    cypress 

south.  trees. 

4.  Narrow  strip  of  woodland  from  10.  Buttress-like    west    end    of     is- 

channel     almost     to     river's  land. 

mouth.  11.  Dense  forest  reaching  to  chan- 

5.  Strip    of    meadow-land    clear    of  nel. 

trees.  12.  Rocky  cape. 

6.  River.  13.  Level  plateau,   without  trees. 

7.  Stretch      of      lowland      leading  14.  Beach. 

down  to  the  water.  15.  Penguins. 


CHAPTER  X 

AFTER  the  second  reading  of  the  foregoing  re 
port,  the  first  being  in  English,  Percival  re 
quested  his  fellow  explorers  to  verify  the  state 
ments  contained  therein.     This  they  did  promptly.     He 
then  went  on: 

"  I  am  delegated  by  Captain  Trigger  and  the  offi 
cers  of  this  vessel,  after  a  conference  just  concluded, — 
and  of  which  you  'are  all  well  aware, —  to  put  before 
you  as  briefly  and  as  clearly  as  possible  the  decision 
that  has  been  reached.  I  may  as  well  confess  in  the 
beginning  that  this  decision  is  based  on  the  recom 
mendations  of  the  party  who  went  to  the  top  of  the 
mountain.  It  is  out  of  the  question  for  the  people  on 
board  this  vessel  to  go  ashore  until  further  investiga 
tions  have  been  made.  For  the  present,  we  are  all 
safe  here  on  board  the  ship.  We  don't  know  what 
perils  exist  in  the  absolutely  unexplored  country  that 
surrounds  us.  Additional  parties  are  to  be  sent  out 
to  explore  the  island,  especially  the  eastern  section  of 
it.  There  is  no  use  mincing  matters.  We  are  con 
fronted  by  a  very  plain  situation.  It  is  possible,  even 
probable,  that  we  are  the  first  human  beings  ever  to 
set  foot  on  this  land.  If  that  be  true,  we  are  now  so 
far  out  of  the  path  of  the  few  ships  and  steamers  sail 
ing  these  southern  seas  that  there  is  small  hope  or 
chance  of  a  speedy  rescue.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  it 
isn't  likely  that  we  will  be  discovered  until  the  island 
itself  is  discovered,  if  you  see  what  I  mean. 

128 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  129 

"  There  isn't  the  slightest  chance  that  the  ship  we're 
now  standing  on  will  ever  float  again.  Even  if  the 
engines  could  be  put  in  order, —  and  that  is  possible, 
I  am  told, —  the  vessel  cannot  be  raised.  If  anybody 
has  been  nursing  that  sort  of  hope,  he  may  as  well 
get  rid  of  it.  It's  no  good.  We  are  here  to  stay, 
unless  help  comes  from  the  outside.  There's  the  plain 
English  of  it.  We  may  have  to  live  here  on  this  island, 
like  poor  old  Robinson  Crusoe,  for  years, —  for  a  great 
many  years.  I'm  going  to  stop  just  a  few  seconds  to 
let  that  soak  into  your  brains.  We've  got  to  face  it. 
We've  got  to  make  the  best  of  it.  It  is  not  for  Cap 
tain  Trigger  or  me  or  any  one  else  to  say  that  we  will 
not  be  taken  off  this  island  some  time  —  maybe  sooner 
than  we  think.  Whaling  vessels  must  visit  these  parts. 
That's  neither  here  nor  there.  We've  got  our  work  cut 
out  for  us,  friends.  We've  got  to  think  of  the  present 
and  let  the  future  take  care  of  itself.  Now,  here  are 
the  facts.  We  cannot  remain  on  board  this  wreck. 
We've  got  to  go  to  work,  every  man,  woman  and  child 
of  us.  I  don't  know  what  can  be  cultivated  on  this 
island,  but  we've  got  to  find  out,  and  when  we  find  out 
we've  got  to  begin  raising  it.  If  we  don't,  my  friends, 
we'll  starve  to  death  in  a  very  short  time.  And  what's 
more,  if  we  do  not  get  out  there  and  put  up  houses  to 
live  in,  we'll  freeze  to  death  when  winter  comes  along. 

"  According  to  calculations,  winter  is  still  five  or 
six  months  away.  We  won't  get  it,  I  dare  say,  before 
next  April  or  May.  All  you  have  to  do  is  to  take  a 
look  at  all  these  trees  around  here  to  realize  that  we 
are  a  long  way  from  the  tropics.  It  gets  as  cold  as 
blazes  here  in  the  dead  of  winter",  I  can  tell  you  that. 
We've  got  to  build  homes.  We've  got  to  build  a  camp, 
—  not  a  flimsy,  half-way  sort  of  camp,  but  a  good, 


130  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

solid,  substantial  one,  my  friends.  There  is  what  you 
might  call  a  minority  report  in  regard  to  the  situation. 
Captain  Trigger  asked  me  to  speak  for  him  and  others 
who  look  at  it  as  I  do.  Mr.  Landover,  who  is,  I  under 
stand,  one  of  the  leading  bankers  in  the  United  States 
of  America,  contends  that  we  are  well  enough  off  as  we 
are,  on  board  the  Doraine,  where  we've  got  cabins  and 
beds  and  shelter  from  the  elements.  He  may  be  right. 
All  I  have  to  say  to  him  is  this, —  I  don't  believe  I  men 
tioned  it  at  this  conference,  Mr.  Landover,  simply  be 
cause  I'm  one  of  those  unhappy  individuals  who  always 
think  of  the  brilliant  things  I  might  have  said  when  it's 
too  late  to  say  them, —  all  I  have  to  say  is  this :  if 
Mr.  Landover  and  his  supporters  expect  to  sit  snugly 
on  this  ship  while  the  rest  of  us  build  houses  and  plant 
crops,  and  then  conclude  to  come  out  and  bone  the 
rest  of  us  for  a  square  meal  and  a  nice  warm  place  to 
sleep,  they  are  going  to  be  badly  fooled.  We're  all 
equal  here.  A  couple  of  million  dollars,  more  or  less, 
doesn't  cut  any  ice  on  this  little  island.  What  counts 
here  is  muscle  and  commonsense  and  a  willingness  to 
use  both. 

"  A  little  while  ago  I  asked  Mr.  Landover  how  much 
money  he  has  with  him.  He  informed  me  that  while 
it  wasn't  any  of  my  business,  he  has  about  five  hun 
dred  dollars  in  American  money  and  a  couple  of  hun 
dred  pesos  besides,  but  that  his  letter  of  credit  is  still 
good  for  fifteen  thousand.  Mr.  Nicklestick  has  about 
five  hundred  dollars  in  money,  and  so  has  Mr.  Block 
and  one  or  two  others.  They've  all  got  letters  of 
credit,  express  checks,  and  so  forth,  and  I  suppose 
there  is  a  wheelbarrow  full  of  jewellery  on  board  this 
ship.  Now,  if  money  is  to  talk  down  here,  I  wish  to 
state  that  the  men  and  women  from  the  steerage  have 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  131 

got  more  real  dough  than  all  the  first  and  second 
cabins  put  together.  They  haven't  any  letters  of 
credit  or  bank  accounts  in  New  York,  but  there  are 
a  dozen  men  in  the  steerage  who  have  as  much  as  two 
or  three  thousand  pesos  sewed  up  inside  their  clothes. 
So  far  as  I  can  make  out,  the  only  people  who  can 
afford  to  hire  anybody  to  build  a  hut  for  them,  and  pay 
for  it  in  real  money,  are  the  plutocrats  from  the  steer 
age. 

"  Mr.  Landover's  letter  of  credit  is  good  for  fifteen 
thousand  if  he  ever  gets  back  to  New  York,  but  it  isn't 
worth  fifteen  cents  here.  His  life  is  insured  for  one 
million  dollars,  I  am  told.  I  don't  know  who  the  bene 
ficiaries  are,  but,  whoever  they  are,  they  are  going  to 
put  in  a  claim  for  the  million  if  he  doesn't  show  up  in 
New  York  pretty  shortly.  He  is  going  to  be  declared 
officially  dead,  and  so  are  all  the  rest  of  us,  after  a 
reasonable  time  has  elapsed.  Now,  I  don't  say  that 
we  are  never  going  to  be  rescued.  We  may  be  found 
inside  of  a  month.  Some  of  us  don't  quite  realize  the 
fix  we  are  in.  Mr.  Codge,  the  purser,  was  saying  a 
little  while  ago  that  a  lady  from  the  first  cabin  nearly 
took  his  head  off  when  he  told  her  it  was  impossible  to 
send  a  cable  message  to  her  people  in  Boston.  A  num 
ber  of  passengers  have  already  demanded  that  their 
passage  money  be  refunded. 

"  You  have  doubtless  heard  how  I  came  to  be  on 
board  this  steamer.  I  am  a  stowaway.  I  have  no 
standing  among  you.  I  haven't  a  penny  in  my  pocket, 
—  aside  from  a  luck-piece  that  doesn't  belong  to  me. 
I  wanted  to  get  back  to  the  States  so  that  I  could 
carry  a  gun  or  something  over  in  France.  I  wanted 
to  fight  for  my  country.  I  wasn't  thinking  very  much 
about  my  life  when  I  started  for  home  and  France,  but 


133  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

I  want  to  say  that  I'm  thinking  about  it  now.  I  don't 
intend  to  starve  or  freeze  to  death  if  I  can  help  it.  I 
am  going  to  fight  for  my  life,  not  for  my  country. 

"  This  is  no  time  to  be  sentimental.  It  is  no  time 
to  sit  down  and  pity  ourselves  or  each  other.  God 
knows  I  am  just  as  sorry  for  myself  as  you  are  for 
yourselves,  but  that  isn't  going  to  get  me  anywhere. 
We've  got  to  work.  That  means  all  of  us.  It  means 
the  women  as  well  as  the  men.  It  means  the  women  with 
soft,  white  hands  and  the  men  who  never  did  a  stroke 
of  manual  labour  in  their  lives,  just  as  much  as  it 
means  the  people  who  have  never  done,  anything  else  but 
work*.  Something  will  be  found  for  every  one  of  us  to 
do,  and,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  we  will  have  to  do  it 
without  whining. 

"  Captain  Trigger  is  accountable  for  the  cargo  on 
board  this  ship.  Naturally  he  is  opposed  to  our  con 
fiscating  anything  that  has  been  entrusted  to  him  for 
safe  delivery.  He  takes  a  very  sensible  attitude,  how 
ever.  He  will  officially  protest  against  the  removal  of 
anything  from  the  hold  of  his  vessel,  but  he  will  not 
employ  force  to  resist  us  when  we  begin  to  land  stores, 
foodstuffs  and  all  that  sort  of  thing.  He  understands 
the  situation  perfectly. 

"  Now,  here  is  what  we  will  have  to  do.  We  must 
select  a  site  for  our  camp, —  or  town,  you  may  well 
say, —  and  we  must  build  upon  it  without  delay.  That 
is  to  be  our  first  step.  Details  will  come  later.  There 
are  over  six  hundred  of  us  here.  We  represent  a  fair- 
sized  village.  We  have  mechanics,  carpenters,  farm 
ers,  surveyors,  masons, —  and  merchants,  to  say  noth 
ing  of  cooks,  housekeepers,  and  so  on.  The  ship  con 
tains  all  sorts  of  tools  to  work  with,  canvas  for  tem 
porary  quarters,  beds  and  bedding,  cooking  utensils, — 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  133 

in  fact,  we  have  everything  that  Robinson  Crusoe  didn't 
have,  and  besides  all  that,  we've  got  each  other.  We 
are  not  alone  on  a  desert  island.  We-  are,  my  friends, 
as  well  off  as  the  Pilgrims  who  landed  on  Plymouth 
Rock,  and  we  are  better  off  than  the  hardy  colonists 
who  laid  the  foundation  for  the  country  that  flies  that 
flag  up  there.  Centuries  ago  bold  adventurers  set  out 
to  discover  unknown  lands.  They  were  few  in  number 
and  poorly  equipped.  But  they  ventured  into  the  wil 
derness  and  built  villages  that  grew  to  be  cities.  They 
went  through  a  thousand  hardships  that  we  will  never 
know,  and  they  survived. 

"  Captain  Trigger  and  the  others  selected  me  to 
make  this  talk  to  you  because  I  have  had  some  practical 
experience  in  establishing  and  developing  a  camp,  such 
as  we  will  have  to  build.  Experience  has  taught  me 
one  thing  above  all  others :  work,  hard  work  of  a  con 
structive  nature,  is  our  only  salvation.  Unless  we  oc 
cupy  ourselves  from  one  day's  end  to  another  in  good, 
hard,  honest  toil,  we  will  all  go  mad.  That's  the  long 
and  the  short  of  it.  If  we  sat  still  on  this  boat  for 
thirty  days,  doing  nothing,  we'd  lose  our  minds.  There 
isn't  a  man  in  this  crowd,  I  am  sure,  who  wouldn't  work 
his  head  off  to  spare  the  women  an  hour  of  hardship. 
But  the  greatest  hardship  you  women  could  possibly 
know  would  be  idleness.  There  will  be  work  for  every 
one  to  do,  and  we  can  thank  God  for  it,  my  friends. 
We  will  have  to  work  for  nothing.  We  will  have  to 
help  each  other.  There  is  but  one  class  on  this  island 
at  present,  and  that  is  the  working  class. 

"  We've  all  got  people  at  home  waiting  for  us.  By 
this  time  the  whole  world  knows  that  the  Doraine  is 
three  weeks  overdue  at  Rio  Janeiro,  and  that  no  word 
has  been  had  from  her.  The  ocean  is  being  searched. 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

Our  friends,  our  relatives  are  doing  everything  in  their 
power  to  get  trace  of  this  lost  ship.  You  may  depend 
on  that.  In  a  little  while,—  a  few  weeks,  at  best, — 
the  ship  will  be  given  up  for  lost.  We  will  be  counted 
as  dead,  all  of  us.  That's  a  hard,  cruel  thing  for  me 
to  say,  and  I  hate  to  say  it, —  but  we've  just  got  to 
realize  the  position  we're  in.  It's  best  that  we  should 
look  at  it  from  the  worst  possible  angle.  I  do  not 
•peak  jestingly  when  I  say  that  we  may  as  well  con 
sider  ourselves  dead  —  and  forgotten.  I  am  as  full  of 
hope  and  confidence  as  anybody  and  I  am  an  optimist 
if  there  ever  was  one,  but  I  don't  work  on  the  theory 
that  God  takes  any  better  care  of  an  optimist  than 
He  does  of  a  pessimist. 

"  It  will  require  months,  maybe  years,  for  us  to  con 
struct  a  ship,  and  even  then  it  will  not  be  big  enough 
to  transport  all  of  us.  The  most  we  can  hope  for  is 
a  craft  that  will  be  stout  enough  to  go  out  and  bring 
help  to  the  rest  of  us.  I  am  trying,  at  Captain  Trig 
ger's  sun^cstion,  to  convince  you  that  we  can't  build 
a  ship,  that  we  can't  expect  to  get  away  from  this  island 
by  our  own  endeavours,  unless  we  go  about  it  in  the 
proper  and  sensible  way.  That  means,  first  of  all,  that 
we  must  safeguard  ourselves  against  time.  We've  got 
to  live  and  we've  got  to  keep  our  strength. 

"  Mr.  Landpver  has  made  a  very  generous  proposi 
tion.  He  agrees  to  give  a  hundred  thousand  dollars 
to  any  boat's  crew  that  will  take  one  of  these  lifeboats 
and  make  port  somewhere.  He  fails  to  mention  the 
compensation  they  are  to  receive  if  they  never  make 
port.  He  forgets  that  this  big  ship  floundered  around 
for  a  good  many  days  without  sighting  anything  but 
water.  He  would  have  been  perfectly  safe  in  offering 
a  hundred  million  dollars,  because  he  would  never  be 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  135 

called  upon  to  pay  it.  I  understand,  however,  that  his 
offer  still  stands. 

lk  Tomorrow  morning  surveying  parties  will  be  sent 
ashore  to  look  for  a  possible  site  for  our  town.  Volun 
teers  will  undertake  this  work.  As  soon  as  possible 
thereafter  a  temporary  camp  will  be  set  up,  and  prac 
tically  every  OIK-  on  board  will  be  moved  from  this 
ship.  Captain  Trigger  and  a  few  chosen  men  will  re 
main  on  board.  It  is  his  wish,  ladies  and  gent  leinen. 
He  is  the  captain  of  the  Doraine.  He  will  not  leave 
her.  We  are  all  here  today,  and  alive,  because  Captain 
Trigger  would  not  leave  his  ship.  We  owe  our  lives 
to  him.  This  is  not  the  time  to  propose  three  cheers 
for  the  gallant  master  of  the  Doraine.  It  is  not  the 
time  to  cheer  for  anybody  or  for  anything.  We-  do  not 
feel  like  cheering.  We've  done  all  the  praying  that  is 
necessary,  we've  offered  up  all  the  thanksgiving  that 
the  situation  calls  for,  so  now  we've  got  to  roll  up  our 
sleeves  and  go  to  work." 

lie  stepped  down  from  the  gun-platform.  There 
were  no  cheers.  Every  voice  was  stilled,  every  face 
was  set.  Many  seconds  passed  before  there  was  even 
the  slightest  stir  among  those  who  had  listened  so  in 
tently. 

Then  the  few  English-speaking  people  from  the  steer 
age  began  to  whisper  hoarsely  to  their  bewildered  com 
panions. 


BOOK  TWO 


CHAPTER  I 

TH'E   warm,   summer  season   was   well-advanced 
in  this  far  southern  land  before  the  strenu 
ous,  tireless  efforts  of  the  marooned  settlers 
began  to  show  definite  results. 

Some  six  weeks  after  the  stranding  of  the  Doraine, 
staunch  log  cabins  were  in  course  of  completion  along 
the  base  of  the  hills  overlooking  the  clear,  rolling 
meadow-land  to  the  north  and  east.  Down  in  the  low 
lands  scores  of  men  were  employed  in  sowing  and  plant 
ing.  The  soil  was  rich.  Farmers  and  grain-raisers 
among  the  passengers  were  unanimously  of  the  opinion 
that  almost  any  vegetable,  cereal  or  fruit  indigenous 
to  Argentina  (or  at  the  worst,  Patagonia),  could  be 
produced  here.  Uncertainty  as  to  the  duration  of  the 
warm  period,  so  vital  to  the  growing  and  maturing  of 
crops,  was  the  chief  problem.  No  time  was  to  be  lost 
if  there  were  to  be  harvests  before  the  cold  and  blight 
ing  weather  set  in. 

It  was  extremely  doubtful  if  the  spring  and  summer 
seasons  combined  covered  more  than  five  months  in  this 
latitude.  Assuming  that  the  climate  in  this  open  part 
of  the  world  was  anything  like  that  of  the  Falkland 
Islands,  the  rainy  season  was  overdue.  Midwinter 
usually  comes  in  July,  with  the  temperature  averaging 
between  35°  and  10°  above  zero  over  a  period  of  four 
or  five  months.  At  the  time  of  the  wreck,  the  ther 
mometers  were  registering  about  70°  during  the  day, 
and  dropping  to  50°  or  thereabouts  after  nightfall. 
This  would  indicate  that  spring  was  fairly  well-ad- 

139 


140  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

vanced,  and  that  midsummer  might  be  figured  on  as 
coming  in  January.  It  was  now  the  end  of  November. 
Warm  weather  probably  would  last  until  February  or 
March.  Possibly  they  would  be  too  late  with  their 
planting,  but  they  went  about  it  speedily,  determinedly, 
just  the  same. 

All  of  them  had  had  crop  failures  before.  All  of 
them  had  seen  the  labour  of  months  go  for  naught  in 
the  blight  of  an  evening's  frost,  or  the  sweep  of  a 
prairie  fire.  So  here  on  this  virgin  isle,  in  soil  whose 
sod  had  never  been  turned,  they  sowed  from  the  bins 
of  the  slumbering  ship.  Wheat  and  oats  and  flax, 
brought  from  the  Argentina  plains;  potatoes,  squash 
and  beet-root ;  even  beans  and  peas  were  tried,  but  with 
small  hope.  And  there  were  women  ready  to  till  the 
soil  and  work  the  gardens,  women  to  draw  the  strangely 
fashioned  ploughshares  as  willing  beasts  of  burden,  to 
wield  the  hoe  and  spade,  and  to  watch  for  the  cherished 
sprout  that  was  to  glorify  their  deeds. 

The  ring  of  the  ax  resounded  in  the  forest;  the 
clangour  of  hammer  and  nail,  the  rasp  of  the  saw,  the 
clatter  of  timber  went  on  from  dawn  to  dusk, —  for 
there  was  no  eight-hour  law  in  this  smiling  land,  nor 
was  there  any  other  union  save  that  of  staunch  en 
deavour,  no  other  Brotherhood  except  that  of  Man. 
There  was  never  a  question  of  wage,  never  a  dispute 
as  to  hours,  never  a  thought  of  strike.  Every  labourer 
Tas  worthy  of  his  hire, —  and  his  hire  was  food ! 

The  Doraine  was  gradually  being  dismantled.  She 
was  being  stripped  of  every  bit  of  material  that  could 
be  used  in  constructing  and  furnishing  the  huts.  The 
new  camp  lay  not  more  than  a  mile  and  a  half  from 
the  basin.  A  road  had  been  cleared  through  the  wood 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  141 

from  the  small,  hastily  constructed  dock  and  runway 
on  the  eastern  side  of  the  basin  to  the  open  territory 
beyond. 

Material,  supplies,  equipment  were  carried  through 
the  densely  shaded  avenue,  and  later  on,  after  the  ware 
houses  and  granaries  had  been  built,  the  leafy  lane 
witnessed  the  transportation  of  ton  upon  ton  of  stores, 
patiently  borne  in  hundredweight  lots,  in  bushel  bags, 
in  clumsy  parcels,  by  men  whose  work  seemed  endless; 
wheat,  barley,  oats,  sugar,  coffee  and  other  commodi 
ties  entrusted  to  the  steamship  company  for  delivery 
in  the  United  States.  Tobacco,  canned  and  refriger 
ated  meats,  olives,  flour,  figs  and  dates  in  large  quanti 
ties  were  included  in  the  vast  cargo,  to  say  nothing  of 
the  enormous  supply  of  canned  fruits  and  vegetables. 
Washed  wool,  tanned  leather,  homespun  cotton  and 
woollen  cloth,  silks,  hides,  furs,  rugs,  laces,  linseed 
oil,  blankets, —  all  these  came  ashore  in  course  of  time, 
but  of  the  sinister  treasure  that  had  inspired  the  de 
struction  of  the  ship,  i.e.,  the  manganese,  the  rubber, 
the  nitrates,  the  copper  bars,  and  the  stacks  of  high 
explosives,  not  a  pound  was  moved.  All  this  was  left 
for  another  and  more  leisurely  day. 

In  the  end,  the  once  luxurious  liner  was  to  be  reduced 
to  "  skin  and  bones,"  to  employ  a  trite  but  eminently 
appropriate  phrase.  Ultimately  she  became  a  black, 
unlovely  skeleton,  bereft  of  every  vestige  of  her  former 
opulence.  Her  decks  were  torn  up  and  the  timbers 
hauled  away  to  make  floors  in  the  huts ;  the  doors,  mir 
rors,  stairways,  windows,  rails,  carpets,  pipes,  bath 
tubs,  toilets,  lamps,  every  foot  of  woodwork  from  stem 
to  stern,  berths,  washbasins,  kitchen  ranges,  boilers,— 
in  fact,  everything  that  man  could  make  use  of  was 


142  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

taken  from  the  ship,  leaving  nothing  of  her  but  a  hol 
low,  echoing  shell  through  which  the  wind  howled  or 
moaned  a  ghostly  requiem. 

Much  of  this  material  was  carefully  stacked  or  stored 
away  against  the  day  when  it  could  be  utilized  in  the 
construction  of  a  small  but  sturdy  ship,  in  which  a 
chosen  company  of  sailors  were  to  fare  out  to  sea  once 
more  in  search  of  the  world  they  had  lost. 

Tireless  and  indomitable  engineers  later  on  succeeded 
in  transferring  portions  of  the  damaged  machinery, 
including  dynamos,  to  the  camp,  where  in  course  of 
time  their  skill  and  ingenuity  bade  fair  to  triumph  over 
seemingly  insurmountable  difficulties  in  the  matter  of 
restoration. 

Fully  six  weeks  elapsed,  however,  before  the  women 
were  allowed  to  leave  the  ship  for  their  new  homes  on 
the  land,  and  even  then  they  came  but  a  few  at  a  time 
and  only  as  huts  were  ready  and  fully  equipped  to 
receive  them.  Each  hut  contained  a  combination 
kitchen  and  living-room,  with  a  single  bedchamber.  A 
substantial  fireplace,  built  of  stone  and  mortar,  with  a 
tall  chimney  at  the  back,  was  a  feature  in  every  house. 
The  cracks  between  the  logs,  and  all  chinks,  were  sealed 
with  thick  layers  o'f  mortar ;  the  ceilings,  made  of  stout 
saplings,  were  treated  in  a  similar  manner,  while  the 
roof,  resting  on  a  sturdy  ridge-pole,  and  securely  an 
chored,  was  of  three  layers  of  poles,  interstices  mor 
tared  and  the  whole  covered  with  a  vast  quantity  of 
seaweed,  moss  and  reeds  held  in  place  by  several  well- 
fastened  sections  of  iron  railing  from  the  decks  of  the 
Doraine. 

While  the  huts  were  uniform  in  size,  shape  and  con 
struction,  there  was  nothing  to  prevent  the  occupant 
from  subsequently  enlarging  and  improving  his  house. 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  14<3 

For  the  present,  however,  the  interests  of  all  were  best 
served  by  speed  and  compactness. 

T^he  superintendent  of  construction  was  Algernon 
Adonis  Percival.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  end  of  the 
first  week  found  him  occupying  the  position  of  General 
Manager  for  the  whole  enterprise,  an  unsolicited  hon 
our  but  one  which  he  was  resolved  that  no  one,  great 
or  small,  should  deride.  He  had  one  stormy  "  run-in," 
as  he  described  it,  with  Mr.  Landover  and  his  group  of 
satellites.  This  occurred  about  the  middle  of  their 
first  week  on  the  island  when  practically  every  able- 
bodied  man  from  the  Doraine  was  at  work  cutting  a 
way  through  the  forest  or  in  constructing  the  dock  at 
the  water's  edge.  As  the  incident  is  entitled  to  a  very 
definite  place  in  this  narrative,  a  more  or  less  extended 
account  of  it  may  be  given  here  and  now,  even  at  the 
risk  of  being  classed  as  a  digression,  or  a  step  back 
ward  in  the  sequence  of  the  history. 

Mr.  Landover,  Mr.  Block,  Mr.  Nicklestick  and  two 
or  three  other  men  were  grouped  on  the  after-deck 
early  one  morning  decrying  the  brainless  scheme  to 
build  a  camp  out  there  in  the  open.  Their  audience 
included  several  women,  among  them  Mrs.  Spofford, 
Ruth  Clinton,  Madame  Careni-Amori,  Madame  Obosky, 
Mrs.  Block  and  a  couple  of  loquacious  Rio  Janeiro 
ladies. 

Percival  bore  down  upon  this  group.  He  wasted  no 
time  in  getting  to  the  point. 

"  We've  been  at  work  for  two  days  out  there,  gen 
tlemen,  and  up  to  date  not  one  of  you  has  turned  to 
with  the  rest  of  us.  The  understanding  was  that  — " 

Mr.  Landover  whirled  on  him,  white  with  anger. 
"  That  will  do !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Clear  out !  I  do 
not  intend  to  allow  any  such  riff-raff  as  you  to  order 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

me  to  —  Oh,  pray  do  not  be  alarmed,  ladies !  This 
rowdy  is  not  likely  to  assault  me.  Nothing  will  hap 
pen,  I  assure  you.  Clear  out,  you  bum, —  do  you  hear 
me?" 

Percival  was  smiling.  "  I  wish  you  wouldn't  inter 
rupt  me,  Mr.  Landover.  As  I  was  saying,  it  was  un 
derstood  that  every  man  on  this  ship  who  is  well 
enough  to  — " 

"Can't  you  see  that  there  are  ladies  present? 
Haven't  you  an  atom  of  decency  about  you?  " 

" —  understood  that  every  man  on  this  ship  was  to 
do  his  share  of  the  work  laid  out.  I  owe  these  ladies 
an  apology  for  reminding  you  in  their  presence  that  the 
boats  ^ire  leaving  for  shore  and  that  if  you  do  not  get 
off  in  the  next  relay  you  will  be  compelled  to  swim  to 
that  landing  over  there, —  and  I  doubt  very  much 
whether  any  of  you  can  make  it." 

"  Wha-what's  that?  "  demanded  Mr.  Block. 

Mr.  Landover  was  speechless.  A  hard  glitter  came 
to  Percival's  eyes,  the  smile  left  his  lips. 

t6  You  heard  what  I  said,  Mr.  Block.  I'll  make  it 
plainer,  however.  If  you  men  don't  get  into  the  next 
boat  leaving  this  ship,  I'm  going  to  have  you  thrown 
overboard  and  made  to  swim  to  your  work.  I  regret 
exceedingly,  ladies,  that  I  have  been  obliged  to  resort 
to  harsh  words  in  your  presence,  but  time  is  so  precious 
that  I  can't  afford  to  give  them  a  private  audience." 

"  Oh,  my  goodness  gracious ! "  cried  Mrs.  Block, 
twisting  her  fat  hands  in  an  agony  of  alarm.  "  Maybe 
you  better  go,  Moses.  You  vas  nearly  drownded  twice 
yet  in  pool  at  White  Sulphur." 

"  This  is  the  most  outrageous,  high-handed, — "  be 
gan  Landover,  explosively,  but  stopped  short  as  Per 
cival  levelled  his  unlovely  forefinger  at  him. 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  145 

"  Cut  it  out,  Mr.  Landover, —  cut  it  out,"  he 
snapped,  inelegantly.  "  Now,  listen  to  me.  For  two 
days  you  and  these  boon  companions  of  yours  have 
been  loafing  on  the  job.  While  the  rest  of  us  have 
been  working  like  dogs,  you  and  your  friends, —  you 
needn't  look  insulted,  because  by  the  looks  of  things 
they  are  your  friends, —  you've  been  sitting  up  here 
talking  to  the  ladies,  smoking  cigars,  and  telling  every 
one  how  successfully  you  conduct  a  bank  in  New  York. 
Now,  Mr.  Landover,  you're  not  an  old  man.  If  you 
were,  I'd  be  the  first  to  suggest  the  easiest  sort  of  work 
for  you.  You  are  under  fifty  and  you're  a  strong, 
healthy  man.  You  ride  every  morning  in  Central  Park, 
you  play  golf  in  winter  and  summer,  and  you're  one  of 
the  men  who  made  Muldoon  famous. 

"  You  are  able  to  work  as  the  rest  of  us  are  work 
ing.  Your  hands  are  in  a  much  better  condition  than 
mine.  If  we  were  in  New  York  I  would  take  off  my 
hat  to  you  and  admit  that  you  are  one  of  the  greatest 
bankers  in  the  world,  and  that  you  know  your  business. 
But  we're  not  in  New  York.  We're  down  here  on  a 
lonely  island.  You  know  how  to  build  and  conduct 
banks,  I  know  how  to  build  and  conduct  camps.  We 
have  no  use  for  scientific  bankers  here,  but  we  have 
considerable  use  for  experienced  camp  builders.  I  have 
been  put  in  charge  of  this  work.  I'm  going  to  see  it 
through.  Up  in  the  hills  I  got  a  full  day's  work  out 
of  my  men, —  and  there  were  worse  men  among  them 
than  you  will  ever  be.  There  were  gunmen,  knife  Sing 
ers,  cutthroats  and  bullies, —  but  they  had  to  work, 
just  the  same.  Just  a  minute,  if  you  please.  I'm  not 
through.  I  think  I  appreciate  your  position,  Mr. 
Landover. 

"  You  regard  me  as  a  four-flusher,  a  tramp, —  maybe 


146  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

a  thief  or  worse.  I  am  but  little  more  than  half  your 
age  and  I  am  a  person  of  absolutely  no  importance. 
That's  neither  here  nor  there.  I  have  been  selected 
to  run  this  job  because  Captain  Trigger,  with  Mr. 
Mott  and  virtually  every  other  man  on  this  ship,  be 
lieves  that  I  know  how  to  handle  it.  But  even  that's 
neither  here  nor  there.  What  I'm  coming  to  is  this. 
As  long  as  I  am  in  charge  of  this  job,  every  man,  woman 
and  child  has  got  to  do  something.  Just  at  present 
there  isn't  much  that  the  women  and  children  can  do, 
but  there  is  work  for  every  man  who  can  stand  on 
his  feet.  You  needn't  glare  at  me.  I'm  not  afraid 
of  you,  Mr.  Landover.  You  say  you  are  going  to 
stay  on  this  ship.  Well,  I've  come  here  to  tell  you  that 
you  are  not  going  to  do  anything  of  the  sort.  The 
women  and  children  are  to  remain  on  board  until  we've 
got  houses  built  for  them  on  shore,  or  until  the  time 
comes  when  there  is  work  for  them  to  do.  If  they 
choose  to  come  ashore  occasionally  it  will  be  to  watch 
the  men  work  and  to  cheer  them  up  with  their  pres 
ence.  But  no  man  is  to  stay  on  this  ship  after  we've 
once  got  the  real  job  going  out  there.  Now  you've 
heard  my  statement,  sir.  I  am  willing  to  listen  for  a 
few  minutes  to  your  side  of  the  question.  Don't  all 
speak  at  once, —  and  please  be  careful,  there  are  ladies 
present." 

While  Percival  did  not  take  his  eyes  from  Land- 
over's  face  during  this  speech,  he  was  aware  that  Miss 
Clinton  and  her  aunt  had  turned  abruptly  away  and 
were  leaning  against  the  rail  a  few  yards  distant,  their 
backs  to  him.  Olga  Obosky  and  Careni-Amori  were 
regarding  him  with  shining,  approving  eyes,  while  Mrs. 
Block, —  gulping  furiously, —  clasped  her  husband's 
arm  and  kept  up  a  constant  muttering.  Something 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  147 

told  him  that  Ruth  Clinton  and  Mrs.  Spofford  had 
turned  against  him. 

"  I  have  nothing  to  say  to  you,"  said  Landover, 
curtly.  Turning  on  his  heel,  he  joined  the  two  ladies 
at  the  rail.  He  spoke  a  few  words  to  them  in  a  low 
ered  tone,  and  then  the  three  of  them  strode  off  without 
so  much  as  a  glance  at  the  young  man. 

Percival  flushed  a  dull  red  under  his  tan.  His  eyes 
followed  them  until  they  disappeared  around  a  cor 
ner.  Down  in  his  heart  he  hoped  that  Ruth  would 
not  deny  him  a  fleeting  look  of  encouragement  and 
approval. 

Landover  carried  himself  like  a  soldier.  He  was 
tall,  well  set-up,  and  almost  offensively  erect.  He  was 
a  handsome  man  of  perhaps  forty-eight.  His  clean 
shaven  face  was  firm,  aggressive,  domineering.  There 
was  not  a  trace  of  grey  in  his  dark  hair.  He  typified 
strength,  mentality,  shrewdness  and  that  most  essential 
quality  in  the  standards  of  wealth  and  power, —  arro 
gance.  In  a  word,  he  personified  Finance. 

"  Now,  see  here,  Percival,"  began  Nicklestick,  in  a 
most  cavalier  manner,  greatly  encouraged  by  the  lofty 
conduct  of  the  Money  King,  "  you  know  you  can't  do 
this  sort  of  thing.  We  won't  stand  for  it,  not  for  a 
minute.  We  object  to  this  high-handed  business.  You 
got  to  realize  that  — " 

"  Object  and  be  hanged  I  "  snapped  Percival.  "  The 
next  thing,  you'll  be  calling  yourselves  conscientious 
objectors.  Well,  it's  no  use,  Nicklestick.  There's  no 
such  animal  on  board  this  Ark.  I  see  a  couple  of  boats 
returning  from  shore.  You've  got  about  fifteen  minutes 
to  shed  that  Stein  &  Bloch  suit  and  hump  into  some 
thing  that  will  never  need  pressing  again, —  your  work 
ing  clothes.  I'm  doing  you  a  kindness.  That  gang 


148  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

out  there  won't  stand  for  slackers.  If  you're  wise 
you'll  take  my  word  for  it." 

He  was  turning  away  when  Nicklestick  intercepted 
him. 

"  What  do  you  think  they  would  do,  Mr.  Percival?  " 
he  inquired  in  some  agitation.  "  We  are  gentlemen. 
We  got  a  right  to  decide  for  ourselves  vat  ve  shall  do. 
We  can  pay  for — " 

"  You  will  find  a  lot  of  gentlemen  out  there  who  have 
already  decided  for  themselves, —  and  very  cheerfully, 
too.  You  will  not  be  lonely.  If  you  desire  any  fur 
ther  information  as  to  the  class  of  labourers  you  will 
come  in  contact  with,  Mr.  Nicklestick,  I  would  suggest 
a  careful  study  of  the  first  cabin  list,  the  second  cabin 
list,  and  finally  the  third  cabin  list,  if  you  can  find  such 
a  thing.  You  will  also  run  up  against  some  excellent 
material  from  the  United  States  Navy,  to  say  nothing 
of  a  fine  lot  of  able  seamen.  They've  adopted  a  com 
mon  name.  Do  you  know  what  they  call  each  other?  " 

"  No,"  said  Nicklestick,  wiping  his  brow.  "  Vat  — 
vat  do  they  call  each  other?  " 

"  Men,"  said  Percival,  and  walked  away. 

He  was  followed  closely  by  Careni-Amori  and  Olga 
Obosky,  and  at  some  distance  by  the  whispering,  ges 
ticulating  Jews.  The  great  soprano  was  profoundly 
agitated.  Obosky,  a  pace  r-r  two  behind  her,  was  tense 
and  silent.  Her  head  was  slightly  bent.  There  was  a 
stran'ge,  dog-like  expression  in  her  eyes  as  they  re 
garded  the  back  of  Percival's  head. 

"  But  what  will  you  do  ?  "  Careni-Amori  was  cry 
ing,  as  she  clutched  his  arm.  "  He  is  a  great  man. 
He  is  a  millionaire.  He  owns  part  of  this  steamship 
line, —  so  he  have  inform  me.  You  will  not  throw  him 
into  the  water, —  yes  ?  " 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  149 

"  As  sure  as  you  are  a  foot  high,  Madame  Careni- 
Amori,"  said  he,  grimly. 

"  Oh,  mon  Dieu !  You  hear  him,  Obosky  ?  He 
means  what  he  have  say." 

"  Be  careful,  my  friend,"  said  Obosky,  drawing  along 
side  of  Percival.  "  Do  you  not  see  how  the  wind 
blows?" 

"  What  do  you  mean?  " 

"  Have  you  count  the  cost  of  victory?  You  may 
lose  more  than  you  will  gain." 

Percival  looked  at  her  intently  for  a  moment;  then, 
in  a  flash,  the  meaning  of  her  words  was  revealed  to 
him. 

"  Even  so,  Madame  Obosky,"  he  returned,  his  jaw 
setting,  "  I  am  a  good  loser." 

"  The  spoils  do  not  always  go  to  the  victor,"  she 
warned  him. 

"  I  still  have  your  luck-piece,"  said  he,  smiling  as  he 
slapped  his  trousers-leg. 

"  It  has  always  brought  me  luck,"  she  said,  looking 
straight  into  his  eyes.  "  It  may  continue  to  do  so, 
who  knows?  Alas  for  you,  my  friend,  you  may  yet 
have  to  turn  to  me  for  consolation.  It  is  the  ill-wind 
that  blows  nobody  good.  Am  I  not  shocking,  Mr.  Per- 
civail?" 

They  had  lost  Madame  Careni-Amori,  who  was  be 
hind  them,  shrieking  a  command  through  a  port-hole 
to  her  maid. 

He  looked  at  her  in  amazement.  "  I  don't  know 
what  to  think  of  you,  Madame  Obosky."  Then  he 
grinned.  "  Good  Lord !  You  —  you  can't  be  making 
me  an  offer  of  marriage?  " 

"Heaven  forbid!"  she  cried.  "I  have  had  all  I 
want  of  marriage,  my  friend.  You  will  never  catch  me 


150  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

doing  anything  so  foolish  as  that  again.  No,  no!  I 
do  not  desire  to  marry  you,  Mr.  Percivail.  Nothing 
so  dreadful  as  that !  Suppose  we  would  be  married, — 
what  zen?  Poof!  Because  I  am  an  honest  woman  I 
would  have  to  tell  you  some  time  zat  I  have  had  ze  hon 
our  to  be  once  the  mistress  of  a  Crown  Prince, —  and 
then  you  would  hold  up  your  holy  hands  and  cry  out, 
4  My  God,  what  kind  of  a  woman  is  this  I  have  marry?  ' 
and  —  Oh,  but  I  would  not  tell  you  about  zat  Crown 
Prince  until  we  have  been  married  a  year  or  two*  so  do 
not  look  so  pleased!  In  a  year  you  would  be  hating 
me  so  much  zat  you  would  rejoice  to  hear  about  the 
Crown  Prince,  and  I  would  be  loathing  you  so  much  zat 
I  would  probably  have  to  kill  you, —  because  I  do  not 
believe  in  divorce  any  more  than  I  believe  in  marriage. 
You  see?  Most  women  hate  their  husbands.  They 
never  hate  their  lovers.  It  is  so  difficult  to  get  rid  of 
the  one,  and  so  easy  to  keep  the  other, —  zat  is  the 
explanation.  So !  Now  you  may  know  zat  love  is  the 
humblest  thing  in  the  world,  and  passion  the  noblest, 
for  love  is  for  the  weak  while  passion  is  for  the  strong. 
Love  is  easily  deceived,  passion  never.  Love  endures, 
passion  conquers.  Love  is  blind,  passion  is  sight  it 
self.  Love  rules  the  world,  but  passion  rules  love. 
Love  consents,  passion  demands.  Love  is  law,  passion 
is  life.  I  could  go  on  for  ever,  but  I  see  you  do  not 
like  my  discourse.  Zat  is  because  you  are  already  in 
love,  my  friend.  Poof !  You  will  get  over  that ! " 
She  laughed. 

Percival  was  white  clear  through.  He  was  red- 
blooded,  but  at  the  same  time  his  heart  was  clean. 
Once  more  he  found  himself  contrasting  the  honest- 
eyed,  pure-hearted  Ruth  with  this  sensual  scoffer. 
There  was  no  denying  the  physical  appeal  of  the  lithe, 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  151 

sinuous  Russian,  there  was  no  gainsaying  the  call  of 
the  blood.  On  the  other  hand,  the  American  girl  stood 
for  everything  his  own  mother  exemplified  in  flesh  and 
spirit. 

As  it  is  .with  all  men,  he  was  absolutely  incapable  of 
associating  passion  with  the  mother  who  bore  him,  or 
with  sisters  who  marry  and  give  them  nieces  and 
nephews  to  adore.  It  was  impossible,  utterly  impos 
sible  that  they  should  have  possessed  the  instincts  of 
this  woman  beside  him.  But  even  as  the  thought  raced 
through  his  mind  he  experienced  the  sudden,  almost 
staggering  realization  that  after  all  the  chief,  probably 
the  only  difference  between  his  women  and  Olga  Obosky 
was  that  they  were  good! 

"  Do  you  want  me  to  tell  you  what  I  think  of  you?  " 
he  inquired,  his  eyes  hardening. 

"  Yes,"  she  said  calmly.  "  But  not  now.  When  you 
have  more  time,  my  friend.  I  shall  be  very  much  in 
terested  to  hear  what  you  think  of  me.  In  the  mean 
time,  I  am  troubled  for  you.  You  are  in  love  with 
her, —  oh,  yes,  you  are, —  and  I  am  very  much  afraid 
zat  you  will  lose  her  if  you  are  not  careful.  I  am  your 
friend.  Be  warned  in  time,  Mr.  Percivail.  She  is 
sorry  for  him.  Landover.  You  have  humiliated  him 
before  all  of  us.  He  is  the  friend  of  her  family.  Go 
slow,  my  friend,  or  she  will  turn  against  you  and  you 
will  lose  her.  You  have  still  a  good  chance.  She  is 
more  nearly  in  love  with  you  than  she  suspects.  A 
little  good  judgment  on  your  part,  my  friend, 
and  you  will  win.  She  will  marry  you,  and  when  she 
have  done  so,  zen  you  may  with  impunity  toss  Mr. 
Landover  in  the  sea, —  but  not  now,  my  friend,  not 
now." 

"  By  Jove,  you've  got  me  guessing,  Madame  Obosky," 


152  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

he  exclaimed,  frankly  puzzled.  "  I  can't  make  you  out 
at  all." 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"  Zat  is  because  I  am  a  thousand  years  old  and  very, 
oh,  so  very  wise,  Mr.  Percivail,"  she  returned,  with  a 
smile.  "  Au  revoir !  " 

Percival  went  straight  to  Captain  Trigger. 

"  See  here,  Captain,"  he  said  at  once,  "  Fm  up 
against  it  with  Landover.  He  refuses  to  take  orders 
from  me.  I  don't  want  to  do  anything  drastic  with 
out  consulting  you.  If  you  say  I'm  to  let  him  off, 
that's  the  end  of  it  so  far  as  I'm  concerned.  Of  course, 
I  can't  answer  for  the  rest  of  the  crowd.  But  if  you 
say  I  am  to  go  ahead  along  the  line  originally  laid  out, 
I'll  do  it." 

Captain  Trigger's  eyes,  red  from  loss  of  sleep, 
pinched  with  anxiety,  rested  for  a  few  seconds  on  the 
three  boats  coming  across  the  basin.  Then  he  turned 
to  the  young  man. 

"  Mr.  Landover  is  one  of  the  owners  of  this  steam 
ship  line,  Percival." 

"  So  I  understand,  sir." 

"  He  notified  me  this  morning  that  he  will  see  that 
I  am  dismissed  from  the  service  if  I  continue  to  support 
this  silly,  suicidal  plan  to  build  a  camp  on  shore." 

"  Yes,  sir.     And  you  ?  " 

"  I  promptly  tendered  my  resignation  as  master  of 
this  vessel,"  answered  the  Captain. 

"  You  did  ?  "  cried  Percival,  dismayed. 

"  To  take  effect  when  I  have  tied  her  safely  up  to 
her  pier  in  New  York,"  said  the  old  man,  striking  the 
rail  with  his  fist. 

"  Great !  "  cried  Percival. 

"  He  has  just  come  to  me  with  the  complaint  that 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  153 

you  have  threatened  to  throw  him  overboard.  Is  that 
true,  Percival?  " 

"  Yes,  sir, —  in  a  way.     I  mentioned  an  alternative." 

"  Mr.  Landover  is  no  better  than  any  of  the  rest  of 
us.  You  will  proceed  to  throw  him  overboard,  Per 
cival,  if  he  refuses  to  do  his  share  of  the  work." 

Percival  gulped,  and  then  saluted. 

"Orders,  sir?" 

"  Orders ! " 

The  young  man  started  away,  but  the  Captain  called 
him  back. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  after  you  have  had  him 
thrown  into  the  water  ?  " 

"  Why,  dammit  all,"  exclaimed  Percival,  "  what  can 
I  do  but  jump  in  and  save  his  life?  You  don't  sup 
pose  I'd  let  him  drown,  do  you?  !And,  God  knows, 
nobody  else  would  save  it.  They  want  to  tar  and 
feather  him,  as  it  is,  or  lynch  him,  or  make  him  walk 
the  plank." 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  first  of  the  two  boats  came  alongside,  and 
men  began  to  go  clumsily,  even  fearfully  down 
the  ladders.  Throughout  the  early  stages  of 
activity  on  shore,  the  passengers  and  crew  went  out  in 
shifts,  so  to  speak.  Percival  and  others  experienced 
in  construction  work  had  learned  that  efficiency  and 
accomplishment  depend  entirely  upon  the  concentration 
of  force,  and  so,  instead  of  piling  hundreds  of  futile 
men  on  shore  to  create  confusion,  they  adopted  the 
plan  of  sending  out  daily  detachments  of  fifty  or  sixty, 
to  work  in  regular  rotation  until  all  available  man 
power  had  been  broken  in  and  classified  according  to 
fitness  and  strength.  For  example,  certain  men  de 
veloped  into  capable  wood-choppers,  while  others  were 
useless  in  that  capacity.  Each  successive  draft,  there 
fore,  had  its  choppers,  its  strippers,  its  haulers,  its 
"  handy  men," —  and  its  water-boys.  Moreover,  this 
systematic  replacement  of  toilers  made  it  possible  for 
those  who  were  not  accustomed  to  hard,  manual  labour 
to  recover  from  the  unusual  tax  on  strength  and  en 
durance. 

It  should  be  explained,  however,  that  this  system  was 
not  applied  to  individuals  selected  for  the  purpose  of 
exploration  and  research.  Four  parties,  well-armed 
and  equipped,  were  sent  out  to  explore  both  sections  of 
the  island.  These  expeditions  had  numerous  objects  in 
view:  to  determine,  if  possible,  whether  the  island  had 
ever  been  visited  or  occupied  by  man ;  to  determine  the 
character  of  the  fruits  and  vegetables ;  extent  and  va- 

154 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  155 

riety  of  animal  life;  the  natural  food  resources,  etc. 
The  groups  were  made  up  of  men  familiar  with  nature 
in  the  rough.  Lieutenant  Platt  headed  one  group, 
Professor  Flattner  another,  a  Bolivian  ranchman  and 
an  English  horse  buyer  the  remaining  two. 

Abel  Landover  was  to  have  gone  out  with  the  first 
day's  shift  to  work  on  the  road  through  the  wood.  He 
refused  point-blank  to  leave  the  ship.  This  state  of 
affairs  lasted  through  the  next  two  days,  the  banker 
stubbornly  ignoring  the  advice  and  finally  the  com 
mands  of  Captain  Trigger,  In  the  meantime  he  had 
been  joined  in  his  rebellion, —  a  word  used  here  for  want 
of  a  milder  one, —  by  half  a  dozen  gentlemen  who  did 
a  great  deal  of  talking  about  how  the  Turks  were  mal 
treating  the  Armenians,  but,  for  fear  of  being  sus 
pected  of  pro-Germanism,  studiously  avoided  pre-war 
dissertations  on  the  conduct  of  the  Russians. 

The  first  shift's  turn  had  come  around  once  more  in 
the  natural  order  of  things,  and  practically  all  of  the 
men  had  been  landed,  Landover  had  refused  to  go  out 
with  either  of  the  other  shifts.  He  had  stood  his 
ground  obstinately.  Percival's  ultimatum,  sweeping 
like  wildfire  throughout  the  ship's  company,  brought 
nearly  every  one  on  board  to  the  rails  to  see  whether 
he  would  carry  out  his  threat.  Would  he  dare  throw 
the  great  capitalist,  this  mighty  Croesus,  this  autocrat, 
into  the  sea? 

The  first  boat  carried  off  Nicklestick,  Block,  Shine 
and  the  other  objectors.  Landover  was  in  his  state 
room. 

"  Just  a  minute,"  called  out  Percival  to  the  oars 
men,  as  they  waited  for  him  to  take  his  place  in  the 
last  boat.  "  We're  shy  a  man,  I  see."  His  eye  ranged 
the  deck.  His  face  was  a  sickly  yellow.  It  would 


156  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

have  been  white  save  for  the  tan.     "  Where  is  Land- 
over?  "  he  demanded  of  the  crowd. 

Some  one  answered :  "  He  went  to  his  cabin  a  couple 
of  minutes  ago,"  and  another  volunteered :  "  It's 
Number  9  on  the  promenade  deck." 

Half  a  minute  later  Percival  rapped  peremptorily 
on  the  door  of  Number  9. 

"  We're  waiting  for  you,  Mr.  Landover,"  he  called 
out. 

"  Wait  and  be  damned,"  came  strongly  from  the 
stateroom.  "  The  door  is  unlocked.  If  you  put  a 
foot  inside  this  room,  I'll  shoot  you  like  a  dog." 

"  You  will  have  the  satisfaction  of  killing  a  mighty 
good  dog,"  said  Percival,  and  threw  the  door  wide 
open.  He  did  not  enter  the  room,  however.  Stand 
ing  just  outside  the  door,  he  faced  the  banker.  Land- 
over  stood  in  the  centre  of  the  luxurious  cabin,  a  re 
volver  in  his  hand. 

"  I  mean  exactly  what  I  say,  Percival.  I  will  shoot 
the  instant  you  put  a  foot  through  that  door." 

"  I  don't  believe  you  would,"  said  Percival,  "  but, 
just  the  same,  I'm  not  going  to  chance  it.  If  I  ever 
conclude  to  commit  suicide,  I'll  go  off  somewhere  and 
blow  my  brains  out  with  my  own  gun.  At  present,  I 
have  no  thought  of  committing  suicide,  so  I'll  stay 
right  where  I  am.  I  didn't  come  here  to  kill  you,  Mr. 
Landover.  I  have  no  gun  with  me.  I  simply  came  to 
tell  you  that  the  last  boat  is  leaving,  and  we  are  wait 
ing  for  you." 

For  many  seconds  the  two  men  looked  straight  into 
each  other's  eyes. 

"  Are  you  coming?  "  demanded  the  young  man  lev- 
elly. 

"  Certainlv  not !  " 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  157 

Percival's  shoulders  sagged.  His  face  wore  an  ex 
pression  of  complete  surrender. 

"  Well, —  if  you  won't,  I  suppose  you  won't,"  he 
muttered. 

A  triumphant  sneer  greeted  this  abject  back-down 
on  the  part  of  the  would-be  dictator. 

"  I  thought  so,"  exclaimed  Landover.  "  You're  yel 
low.  You  can  bully  these  poor,  ignorant  - — ' 

He  never  finished  the  sentence.  Percival  cleared 
the  eight  or  nine  feet  of  intervening  space  with  the 
lunge  of  a  panther.  His  solid,  compact  body  struck 
Landover  with  the  force  of  a  battering  ram.  Before 
the  larger  and  heavier  man  could  fire  a  shot,  his  wrist 
was  caught  in  a  grip  of  steel.  As  he  staggered  back 
under  the  impact,  Percival's  right  fore-arm  was  jammed 
up  under  his  chin.  In  the  fraction  of  a  second,  Land- 
over,  unable  to  withstand  this  sudden,  savage  on 
slaught,  toppled  over  backwards  and,  with  his  assailant 
clinging  to  him  like  a  wildcat,  found  himself  pinned 
down  to  the  spacious,  inset  washstand. 

The  revolver  was  discharged,  the  bullet  burying  it 
self  in  the  floor.  An  instant  later  the  weapon  fell  from 
his  paralysed  fingers.  With  his  free  left  hand  he 
struck  wildly,  frantically  at  Percival,  but  with  no  ef 
fect.  The  broad  back  and  shoulders  of  his  assailant 
proved  a  barrier  he  could  not  drive  past.  And  that 
rigid,  merciless  right  arm,  as  hard  as  a  bar  of  steel, 
was  pressing  relentlessly  against  his  throat,  crushing, 
choking  the  life  out  of  him.  He  was  a  strong,  vigor 
ous  .man,  but  he  was  helpless  in  the  grasp  of  this  tiger 
ish  young  fighter  from  the  slopes  of  the  Andes.  He 
heard  Percival's  voice,  panting  in  his  ear. 

"  I  can  keep  this  up  longer  than  you  can.  I  don't 
want  to  break  your  neck, —  do  you  understand?  I 


158  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

don't  want  to  break  your  neck,  Landover,  but  if  you 
don't  give  in,  I'll  —  I'll — "  The  pressure  slackened 
perceptibly.  "  Say  it !  Now's  your  chance.  Say 
you've  —  got  enough !  " 

Landover  managed  to  gasp  out  the  word.  He  could 
still  feel  his  eyes  starting  from  his  head,  his  tongue 
seemed  to  fill  his  mouth  completely. 

Percival  released  him  instantly  and  fell  back  a  yard 
or  so,  ready,  however,  to  spring  upon  his  man  again 
at  the  first  sign  of  treachery.  No  more  than  sixty 
seconds  elapsed  between  the  beginning  and  the  end  of 
the  encounter.  It  was  all  over  in  the  twinkling  of  an 
eye,  so  to  speak.  In  fact,  it  was  over  so  quickly  that 
the  first  man  to  reach  the  door  after  the  report  of  the 
revolver  rang  out,  found  the  two  men  facing  each 
other,  one  coughing  and  clutching  at  his  throat,  the 
other  erect  and  menacing.  For  the  first  time,  Per 
cival  took  his  eyes  from  the  purplish  face  of  the 
banker.  They  fell  first  upon  a  head  and  pair  of  shoul 
ders  that  blocked  one  of  the  two  port-holes.  He  recog 
nized  the  countenance  of  Soapy  Shay,  the  thief.  To 
his  amazement,  Soapy  grinned  and  then  winked  at 
him! 

"  The  boat  is  ready  to  leave,  Landover,"  said  the 
victor  briskly.  "  We  have  no  more  use  for  this  thing 
at  present,"  he  went  on,  shoving  the  revolver  under  the 
berth  with  the  toe  of  his  boot.  The  banker  stared  past 
him  at  the  agitated  group  in  the  corridor.  The  man 
was  trembling  like  a  leaf,  not  so  much  from  fear  as 
from  the  effects  of  the  tremendous  physical  shock. 

Percival  was  a  generous  foe.  He  experienced  a 
sudden  pity, —  a  rush  of  consideration  for  the  other's 
feelings.  He  saw  the  tears  of  rage  and  mortification 
well  up  in  the  eyes  of  the  banker,  he  heard  the  half- 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  159 

suppressed  sob  that  broke  from  his  lips.  Whirling, 
he  ordered  the  crowd  away  from  the  door.  "  It's  all 
right,"  he  said.  "  Please  leave  us."  He  addressed 
Soapy  Shay.  "  Beat  it,  you !  " 

Soapy  saluted  with  mock  servility.  "  Aye,  aye,  sir. 
I  saw  the  whole  show.  It  was  certainly  worth  the  price 
of  admission."  Having  delivered  himself  of  that  grace 
ful  acknowledgment,  he  effaced  himself. 

"  Just  a  word  or  two,  Mr.  Landover,"  said  Percival 
as  the  crowd  shuffled  away  from  the  door.  "  I  am 
sorry  this  had  to  happen.  Even  now  I  am  not  sure 
that  you  fully  understand  the  situation.  You  may 
still  be  inclined  to  resist.  You  are  not  in  the  habit 
of  submitting  to  force,  reason  or  justice.  I  am  only 
asking  you,  however,  to  recognize  the  last  of  these. 
You  will  be  happier  in  the  end.  I  don't  give  a  hang 
how  much  you  hate  me,  nor  how  far  you  may  go  to 
depose  me.  I  don't  want  your  friendship  any  more 
than  I  want  your  enmity.  I  can  get  along  very  nicely 
without  either.  But  that  isn't  the  point.  At  present 
I  am  in  charge  of  a  gang  of  workmen.  Every  man  on 
this  ship  belongs  to  that  gang,  you  with  the  rest.  I 
ask  you  to  look  at  the  matter  fairly,  honestly,  open- 
mindedly.  You  accuse  me  of  being  high-handed.  I 
return  the  charge.  It's  you  who  are  high-handed. 
You  set  yourself  above  your  fellow-unfortunates.  You 
refuse  to  abide  by  the  will  of  the  majority.  I  rep 
resent  the  majority.  I  am  not  acting  for  myself, 
but  for  them.  God  knows,  I  am  not  looking  for 
trouble.  This  job  isn't  one  that  I  would  have  chosen 
voluntarily.  But  now  that  it  has  been  thrust  upon 
me,  I  have  no  other  alternative  than  to  see  it 
through.  You  ought  to  be  man  enough,  you  ought 
to  be  fair  enough  to  see  it  in  that  light.  If  con- 


160  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

ditions  were  reversed,  Mr.  Landover,  and  you  were  in 
my  place,  I  would  be  the  last  to  oppose  you,  because  I 
have  learned  in  a  very  .tough  school  that  it  pays  to 
live  up  to  the  regulations.  Everywhere  else  in  the 
world  it  is  a  question  of  capital  and  labour.  Here  it 
is  a  question  of  labour  alone.  There  is  no  such  thing 
as  capital.  Socialism  is  forced  upon  us,  the  purest 
kind  of  socialism,  for  even  the  socialist  can't  get  rich 
at  the  expense  of  his  neighbour.  But  I'm  beginning  to 
lecture  again.  Let's  get  down  to  cases.  Are  you  pre 
pared  to  go  out  peaceably, —  I'll  not  say  willingly, — 
and  do  your  share  on  the  job  as  long  as  you  are  phys 
ically  able?" 

"  I  submit  to  brute  force.  There  is  no  other  course 
left  open  to  me,"  said  Landover  hoarsely. 

"  Very  well,  then.  Come  along, —  we're  wasting  val 
uable  time  here." 

"  I  will  follow  you  in  a  few  minutes." 

"  You  will  come  now,"  said  Percival  levelly.  "  You 
and  I,  Mr.  Landover,  are  jointly  concerned  in  the 
establishment  of  a  very  definite  order  of  discipline.  We 
represent  the  two  extremes."  He  stood  aside.  "  Pre 
cede  me,  if  you  please." 

After  a  moment's  hesitation,  the  other  lifted  his  chin 
and  walked  past  the  young  man.  The  corridors  were 
clear.  Percival  followed  close  behind.  He  kept  up  a 
glib,  one-sided  conversation. 

"  You  see,  there  was  no  other  way  to  handle  you. 
I  was  obliged  to  resort  to  punitive  measures.  That's 
always  the  case  when  you  are  dealing  with  sensible,  in 
telligent,  educated  men.  It  is  impossible  to  reason  with 
an  intelligent,  educated  man.  He  invariably  has  opin 
ions,  ideas,  viewpoints  of  his  own.  He  is  mentally 
equipped  to  resist  any  kind  of  an  argument.  Take 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  161 

our  United  States  Senators,  our  Congressmen,  even  our 
Presidents.  You  can't  reason  with  them.  No  doubt 
you've  tried  it  a  thousand  times,  you  and  the  other 
capitalists.  We've  all  tried  it.  You've  got  to  hit  'em 
on  the  head  with  some  sort  of  a  club  or  big  stick  if  you 
want  to  bring  'em  to  time.  You  have  to  club  them  to 
death  at  the  polls,  so  to  speak.  Now,  you  take  these 
wops.  They  can't  argue.  They  haven't  got  that  sort 
of  intelligence.  They're  considerably  like  the  common 
or  garden  variety  of  dog.  No  matter  how  much  you 
beat  them  and  scold  them,  you  can  always  get  along 
with  them  if  you  feed  them  and  let  them  see  that  you're 
not  afraid  of  them.  If  they  once  get  an  idea  that  you 
are  afraid  of  them, —  well,  it's  all  off.  They  begin 
to  be  sensible  right  away,  and  then  they  form  a  labour 
union.  And  the  more  sensible  and  intelligent  they  be 
come,  the  easier  it  is  for  the  labour  leaders,  the  walking 
delegates,  and  blood-sucking  agitators  to  make  fools 
of  'em.  It's  all  a  matter  of  leadership,  Mr.  Landover, 
as  you  will  admit,  any  way  you  look  at  it.  Well,  here 
we  are." 

Landover  paused  before  starting  down  the  ladder  to 
the  boat.  He  turned  to  address  Percival  in  a  loud, 
clear  voice. 

"  You  will  not  long  be  in  a  position  to  browbeat  and 
bully  the  rest  of  us,  young  man.  Your  reign  will  be 
short.  I  would  like  my  fellow-passengers  to  know  that 
I  have  never  refused  to  work  with  them.  I  have  merely 
declined  to  work  under  an  outlaw.  Life  is  as  dear  to 
me  as  it  is  to  any  one  else  on  this  ship.  I  am  taking 
this  step  against  my  will,  rather  than  subject  myself 
to  further  indignities  and  the  cruelties  you  would  in 
flict  if  I  held  out  against  you.  I  am  sorry  to  deprive 
you  of  the  spectacular  hit  you  might  have  made  by 


162  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

throwing  me  into  the  sea,  a  treat  which  you  doubtless 
led  all  of  these  people  to  expect." 

He  climbed  down  the  ladder  and  dropped  into  the 
boat.  As  he  took  his  seat,  he  ran  his  eye  along  the 
line  of  faces  above.  Finding  the  persons  he  sought,  he 
smiled,  shook  his  head  slowly  to  signify  a  state  of  resig 
nation,  and  then  set  his  flushed,  angry  face  toward  the 
land. 

Percival,  following  hirn,  did  not  look  up  at  the  row 
of  faces. 

Careni-Amori  sang  that  evening  in  the  main  saloon. 
Signer  Joseppi,  tired  and  sore  after  his  hard  day's 
work,  wept,  and  after  weeping  as  publicly  as  possible 
created  a  profound  sensation  by  kissing  the  great 
prima-donna  in  full  view  of  the  applauding  spectators. 
Then,  to  cap  the  climax,  he  proclaimed  in  a  voice 
charged  with  emotion  that  Madame  Careni-Amori  never 
had  sung  better  in  all  her  life !  This  to  an  artist  who 
had  the  rare  faculty  for  knowing  when  she  was  off 
the  key, —  and  who  knew  that  she  was  very  badly  off 
on  this  particular  occasion. 

Percival  was  standing  near  the  door  as  Ruth  Clin 
ton  and  her  aunt  left  the  saloon  on  the  way  to  their 
rooms.  He  joined  them  after  a  moment's  hesitation. 
The  two  ladies  bowed  coldly  to  him.  He  was  the  es 
sence  of  decision.  As  usual,  he  went  straight  to  the 
point. 

"  I  can't  take  back  what  I  did  this  morning,  and 
I  wouldn't  if  I  could,"  he  said,  falling  in  beside  Mrs. 
Spoff ord.  "  I  know  you  are  displeased  with  me.  Can't 
we  thresh  it  out  now,  Mrs.  Spoff  ord?  " 

The  elder  woman  raised  her  chin  and  stared  at  him 
coldly.  He  shot  a  glance  past  her  at  the  girl's  face. 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  163 

There  was  no  encouragement  to  be  found  in  the  calm, 
unsmiling  eyes. 

"  I  fail  to  see  precisely  why  we  should  thresh  any 
thing  out  with  you,  Mr.  Percival,"  replied  Mrs.  Spof- 
ford. 

"  It  is  barely  possible  that  you  are  not  quite  clear 
as  to  my  motives,  and  therefore  unable  to  gauge  my 
actions." 

"  I  understand  your  motives  perfectly,—  and  I  ap 
prove  of  them.  Your  actions  are  not  so  acceptable. 
Good-night,  Mr.  Percival." 

He  smiled  whimsically  at  Ruth.  "  My  left  hand  is 
rather  in  need  of  attention,  Miss  Clinton.  I  suppose 
I  am  so  deeply  in  your  bad  graces  that  I  may  not  hope 
for  —  er  —  the  same  old  kindness  ?  " 

She  stopped  short.  "  Is  this  a  request  or  a  com 
mand?  Mr.  Percival,  I  will  be  quite  frank  with  you. 
Mr.  Landover  is  our  friend.  I  am  not,  however,  de 
fending  him  in  the  position  he  has  taken.  There  is  no 
reason  why  he  should  not  do  his  share  with  the  rest  of 
the  men.  But  was  it  necessary  to  humiliate  him,  was 
it  necessary  to  insult  him  as  you  did  this  morning? 
Pie  is  a  distinguished  man.  He  — " 

"  Are  you  coming,  Ruth?  "  demanded  Mrs.  Spofford, 
sharphr. 

"  In  just  a  moment,  Aunt  Julia." 

"  You  will  oblige  me  by  coming  with  me  at  once. 
We  have  nothing  more  to  say  to  this  young  man." 

"  I  have  asked  him  a  question.  I  shall  wait  for  his 
answer." 

"  I  will  answer  it,  Miss  Clinton,  by  saying  it  was 
necessary,"  said  he  steadily.  "  There  are  other  dis 
tinguished  men  here  who  are  further  distinguishing 


164  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

themselves  by  toeing  the  mark  without  complaint  or 
cavil.  Mr.  Landover  was  appealed  to  on  three  dis 
tinct  occasions  by  Captain  Trigger  and  the  committee. 
He  ignored  all  private  appeals  —  and  commands.  The 
time  had  come  for  a  show-down.  It  was  either  Land- 
over  and  his  little  band  of  sycophants,  or  me  and  the 
entire  company  of  men  on  this  ship.  It  may  interest 
you  to  know  that  you  and  Mrs.  Spofford  are  the  only 
two  people  on  board,  outside  of  Mr.  Landover's  retriev 
ers,  who  blame  me  for  what  I  did  this  morning." 

"  You  can  hardly  expect  me  to  be  interested  in  what 
other  people  think  of  my  position,  Mr.  Percival,"  she 
said,  raising  her  eyebrows  slightly. 

"  No  more,  I  dare  say,  than  Landover  cares  what 
they  think  of  his,"  was  his  retort. 

She  lifted  her  chin.  "  I  am  beginning  to  appreciate 
Mr.  Landover's  attitude  toward  you,  Mr.  Percival," 
she  said  icily. 

"And  to  justify  it,  I  suppose,"  he  said  dejectedly. 
"  I  want  your  friendship,  Miss  Clinton, —  yes,  I  want  a 
great  deal  more  than  your  friendship.  You  may  as 
well  know  it.  I'm  not  asking  for  it, —  I'm  just  telling 
you.  Please  don't  go  away.  I  promise  not  to  make 
myself  ridiculous.  You  have  been  good  to  me,  you 
have  been  wonderful.  I  —  I  can't  bear  the  thought  of 
losing  your  friendship  or  your  respect.  I  just  had  to 
bring  Landover  to  time.  You  may  think  there  was 
some  other  way,  but  I  do  not.  At  any  rate,  it  isn't 
a  matter  that  we  can  discuss.  Some  day  you  may 
admit  that  I  was  right,  but  I  don't  believe  I  will  ever 
see  the  day  when  I  will  admit  that  I  was  wrong.  Won't 
—  can't  we  be  friends?  " 

"  I  do  not  believe  I  can  ever  feel  the  same  toward 
you  after  witnessing  what  I  did  this  morning,"  said 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  165 

she,  shaking  her  head.  "  You  deliberately,  intention 
ally  degraded  Mr.  Landover  in  the  presence  of  others. 
Was  that  the  act  of  a  gentleman  ?  No !  It  was  the 
act  of  an  overbearing,  arrogant  bully  who  had  nothing 
to  fear.  You  took  advantage  of  your  authority  and 
of  the  fact  that  he  is  so  rich  and  powerful  that  he  is 
practically  without  a  friend  or  champion.  You  knew 
only  too  well  that  ninety-nine  per  cent  of  the  people  on 
board  this  ship  were  behind  you  in  your  attack  on  him 
because  he  represents  capital!  You  had  nothing  to 
fear.  No,  Mr.  Percival,  I  don't  believe  we  can  be 
friends.  I  am  sorry." 

"  You  heard  what  Mr.  Landover  said  to  me  this 
morning,  Miss  Clinton,"  said  he,  paling.  "  You  heard 
what  he  called  me.  Do  you  believe  these  things  of 
me?  " 

She  was  silent  for  a  moment.  "  No,  I  do  not,"  she 
replied  slowly.  "  I  believe  that  you  are  all  you  have 
represented  yourself  to  be." 

"  Thank  you,"  he  said,  with  gentle  dignity.  "  I 
am  sorry  if  I  have  distressed  you  this  evening.  Please 
don't  think  too  harshly  of  me  when  I  say  that  I  just 
had  to  find  out  how  we  stand,  you  and  I.  Now  that 
I  know,  I  can  only  promise  not  to  bother  you  again, 
and  you  may  rely  on  my  promises.  I  never  break  them. 
Good-night,  Miss  Clinton." 

He  bowed  to  Mrs.  Spofford,  who  ignored  him,  and 
then  to  Ruth,  a  wistful  smile  struggling  to  his  lips  and 
eyes  as  he  did  so.  As  he  turned  away,  she  spoke  to 
him. 

"  You  mentioned  your  hand  being  bad  again.  If 
you  would  like  me  to  dress  it  for  you, —  under  the  cir 
cumstances, —  I  will  do  so." 

"  Ruth !  "  cried  Mrs.  Spofford  in  a  shocked  voice. 


166  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

He  put  his  left  hand  behind  his  back.  It  was  the 
one  with  which  he  had  gripped  Landover's  wrist  that 
morning.  The  strain  had  reopened  the  partially  healed 
wounds. 

"  I  injured  it  this  morning  in  an  encounter  with  your 
friend,  Miss  Clinton.  I  can  hardly  ask  you  to  dress  it. 
Thank  you,  just  the  same." 

"  I  know  all  that  happened  in  Mr.  Landover's  cabin, 
but  even  so,  I  am  ready  and  willing  to  do  anything  in 
my  power  to  ease  the  pain  you  are  suffering."  She 
spoke  calmly,  dispassionately,  almost  perfunctorily. 

He  shook  his  head.  "  I  shouldn't  have  spoken  of 
it,"  he  said.  "  It  isn't  so  bad  that  I  can't  fix  it  up 
myself.  Good-night." 

She  joined  her  aunt  and  they  made  their  way  in 
silence  to  the  latter's  stateroom.  It  was  not  until 
after  the  door  was  safely  locked  that  Mrs.  Spofford 
delivered  herself  of  the  thought  that  had  been  in  her 
mind  the  whole  length  of  the  slanting  corridor. 

"  I  hope  he  will  not  take  advantage  of  his  position 
to  —  to  bully  us  —  to  bully  you,  dearest, —  he  might, 
you  know.  He  has  shown  himself  to  be  perfectly  ca 
pable  of  it.  And  we  are  so  defenceless.  No  one  but 
Abel  Landover  to  look  to  for  help  if  he, —  for,  of  course, 
no  one  else  would  dare  oppose  this  lawless  young, —  oh, 
you  need  not  smile!  He  has  the  power  and  it  is  quite 
plain  now  that  he  intends  to  exercise  it.  He  will  brook 
no  interference — " 

"  I  am  not  afraid  of  Mr.  Percival,  Aunt  Julia,"  said 
the  girl,  sitting  down  wearily  on  the  edge  of  the  berth. 
"  He  is  a  gentleman." 

"A  —  a  gentleman  ? "  gasped  Mrs.  Spofford. 
"  Good  gracious !  " 

"  He  will  not  annoy  me,"  said  Ruth,  absently  study- 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  167 

ing  the  tips  of  her  slim,  shapely  shoes.  "  Possess  your 
soul  in  peace.  I  think  I  know  him." 

"  Are  you  defending  the  braggart  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all !  I  detest  him,"  cried  the  girl,  spring 
ing  to  her  feet,  hei-  face  crimsoning.  "  He  is  perfectly 
abominable." 

"I  —  I  wouldn't  speak  quite  so  loudly,  my  dear," 
cautioned  her  aunt,  glancing  at  the  door  uneasily.  "  It 
would  be  like  him  to  listen  outside  the  door, —  or  at  any 
rate,  one  of  his  men  may  have  been  set  to  spy  upon  — " 

"  Don't  be  silly,  Aunt  Julia.  And  don't  be  afraid. 
Mr.  Percival  isn't  going  to  make  us  walk  the  plank  for 
mutiny,  or  put  us  in  chains, —  or  outrage  us, —  if 
that  is  what  you  are  thinking.  Now,  go  to  bed,  you  old 
dear,  and  — " 

"  I  insist  on  your  staying  in  my  room,  Ruth.  He 
is  in  love  with  you." 

"  He  can  be  in  love  with  me  and  "still  be  a  gentle 
man,  can't  he,  Aunt  Julia?  Don't  worry!  I  shall 
sleep  in  my  own  room.  I  may  even  go  so  far  as  to 
leave  my  door  unlocked." 

"  What !     And  if  he  should  come  to  — " 

"  Ah,  I  shan't  send  him  word  that  it's  unlocked, 
dear,"  scoffed  Ruth,  finding  a  malicious  enjoyment  in 
her  aunt's  dismay.  "  Good-night.  Sleep  tight !  We 
must  sleep  while  we  have  the  opportunity,  you  know. 
Our  lazy  days  will  soon  be  over.  He  says  we've  all 
got  to  work  like, —  I  think  he  said  dogs." 

"  Oh,  dear  me.  I, —  I  wonder  what  is  to  become  of 
us?  "  moaned  the  wretched  lady.  "  After  what  he  tried 
to  do  to  Abel  Landover,  there  is  no  telling  to  what 
lengths  he  may  go  in  —  By  the  way,  has  Mr.  Land- 
over  reported  to  Captain  Trigger  that  the  fellow  at- 
temped  to  shoot  him  this  morning?  " 


168  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

"  Of  course  not,  Aunt  Julia." 

"  Well,  I  think  it  is  his  duty  to  do  so.  Captain 
Trigger  should  take  drastic  means  to  curb  this  — " 

"  You  forget  that  Mr.  Landover  maintains  that  Cap 
tain  Trigger  and  all  the  other  officers  are  like  putty 
in  the  hands  of  Mr.  Percival.  I  am  beginning  to  be 
lieve  it  myself.  He  —  he  has  got  them  all  hypno 
tized." 

"  He  hasn't  got  me  hypnotized ! "  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Spofford. 

"  In  any  case,  he  is  in  the  saddle,"  sighed  Ruth. 

"  He  deliberately  tried  to  kill  Mr.  Landover,"  said 
the  other.  "  Is  nothing  to  be  done  about  it  ?  We 
heard  the  shot, —  every  one  heard  it.  And  no  one  has 
the  courage  to  say  a  word  about  it!  What  a  lot  of 
cowards  we  are!  I  don't  see  why  he  refuses  to  let  me 
take  the  matter  up  with  the  Captain.  Captain  Trig 
ger  ought  to  know  the  truth." 

Ruth  was  silent  for  a  moment  or  two.  "  It's  hard 
for  me  to  believe,  Aunt  Julia,  that  he  would  attack  a 
defenceless  man  with  a  revolver.  It  —  it  doesn't  seem 
like  him." 

"  But  you  have  Abel  Landover's  word  for  it,  Ruth. 
The  bullet  grazed  his  head.  The  coward  would  have 
killed  him  most  certainly  if  he  had  not  succeeded  in 
knocking  the  pistol  out  of  his  hand  and  overpowering 
him." 

"  If  I  did  not  believe  Mr.  Landover  to  be  an  abso 
lutely  truthful,  honourable  man,  I  — "  began  Ruth,  a 
little  furrow  between  her  eyebrows, — "  well,  I  might 
still  believe  a  little  in  Mr.  Percival." 

"  And  what  chance  had  poor  Landover  with  that 
highwayman,  or  whatever  he  is,  pointing  a  revolver  at 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  169 

him  through  the  porthole  and  threatening  to  blow  his 
brains  out  if  he  did  not  throw  up  his  hands  and  let 
Percival  alone?  " 


Olga  Obosky  bandaged  Percival's  hand.     She  inter 
cepted  him  on  his  way  to  Dr.  Cullen's  cabin. 


CHAPTER  III 

DURING  the  days  and  weeks  that  followed,  Per- 
cival  maintained  an  attitude  of  rigid  but  cour 
teous  aloofness.  Only  on  occasions  when  it 
was  necessary  to  consult  with  Ruth  and  her  aunt  on 
matters  pertaining  to  the  "  order  of  the  day  "  did  he 
relax  in  the  slightest  degree  from  the  position  he  had 
taken  in  regard  to  them. 

In  time,  the  captious  Mrs.  Spofford  began  to  resent 
this  studied  indifference.  She  detested  him  more  than 
ever  for  not  running  true  to  the  form  she  had  pre 
dicted;  her  apprehensiveness  gave  way  to  irritation. 
She  resented  his  dignified,  pleasant  "  good  mornings  " ; 
she  complained  acidly  to  Ruth  about  what  she  was  now 
pleased  to  describe  as  "  disgusting  superciliousness." 

The  truth  of  the  matter  was,  he  failed  to  take  any 
account  whatsoever  of  Mrs.  Spofford  in  his  calcula 
tions;  he  did  not  even  make  a  pretence  of  consulting 
her  in  matters  relating  to  the  common  good  of  the  com 
mon  people,  and  as  she  was  in  the  habit  of  devoting 
a  considerable  portion  of  her  time,  energy  and  execu 
tive  ability  to  the  interests  of  the  common  or  lower 
class  people,  the  omission  was  an  insult. 

Nor  was  his  cause  benefited  by  the  unnecessary  and 
uncalled  for  deference  he  seemed  to  feel  was  due  her  on 
account  of  her  age.  What  had  her  age  to  do  with  it? 
No  one  had  ever  deferred  to  her  age  in  New  York? 
She  was  one  to  be  reckoned  with,  she  was  accustomed 
to  the  deference  that  hasn't  anything  at  all  to  do  with 
age.  And  here  she  was,  shunted  to  one  side,  ignored, 
disregarded, —  she  who  had  been  the  brains  and  inspi- 

170 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  171 

ration  of  a  dozen  charitable  enterprises,  to  say  noth 
ing  of  war-work  and  very  important  activities  in  oppo 
sition  to  Woman  Suffrage ! 

She  found  little  consolation  in  Landover's  contention 
that  the  upstart  was  bound  to  hang  himself  if  they  gave 
him  rope  enough,  or  in  Ruth's  patient  reminder  that 
Percival  was  getting  results, —  and  getting  them  with 
out  bullying  anybody. 

Ruth  accepted  the  situation  with  a  calmness  that 
exasperated  her  aunt.  She  announced  her  intention 
to  obey  any  order  the  "  boss  "  might  issue,  without  re 
crimination,  without  complaint.  And  so,  when  the  day 
came  for  her  to  go  forth  with  other  women  to  do  her 
share  of  the  cooking,  washing,  cleaning,  and  later  on 
the  more  interesting  task  of  putting  the  huts  in  order 
for  occupancy,  she  went  with  a  full  understanding  of 
what  was  required  of  her  and  without  a  word  of  pro 
test.  The  women  with  whom  she  toiled  from  early 
morn  till  sombre  dusk  draped  the  land  were  under  the 
immediate  direction  of  a  stewardess  of  many  years' 
experience,  an  Englishwoman  whose  husband,  an  en 
gineer,  had  been  killed  at  the  time  of  the  explosions. 

Each  night  she  returned  to  the  ship  tired  and  sore 
but  uncomplaining.  Her  strong  young  body  stood 
the  test  with  the  hardiest;  her  spirit  was  unflinching, 
her  heart  in  the  common  cause.  For  she  looked  ahead 
with  a  clear,  far-seeing  eye,  and  saw  not  one  but  many 
winters  in  this  vast,  unguarded  prison.  And  she  won 
dered, —  wondered  day  and  night, —  what  was  ahead  of 
her. 

She  was  young.  The  young  do  not  dream  of  death. 
They  dream  of  life,  and  of  its  fullness.  What  did  fate 
have  in  store  for  her  ?  Sometimes  she  crimsoned,  some 
times  she  paled  as  she  looked  ahead. 


172  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

Bare-armed,  her  heavy  sport  skirt  caught  up  with 
pins,  her  bonny  brown  hair  loosely  coiled,  thick  golf 
stockings  and  sturdy  shoes  covering  her  legs  and  feet, 
she  presented  a  figure  that  caused  more  than  one  heart 
to  thump,  more  than  one  head  to  turn,  more  than  one 
pair  of  eyes  to  follow  her  as  she  went  about  her  work. 
Her  cheeks  and  throat  and  breast  and  arms  were 
browning  under  the  fire  of  the  noonday  sun,  her  eyes 
glowed  with  the  fervour  of  enthusiasm;  her  voice  was 
ever  cheerful  and  her  smile,  though  touchd  with  the 
blight  that  lay  upon  the  soul  of  all  these  castaways, 
was  unfailingly  bright.  And  when  she  returned 
"  home  "  at  night  from  her  wageless  day  of  toil,  she 
slept  as  she  never  had  slept  before. 

Her  aunt  worked  in  what  was  known  as  the  salvage 
corps.  She  was  one  of  the  clerks  employed  in  check 
ing  out  the  cargo  and  other  materials  seized  by  the 
committee  of  ten,  as  the  leaders  in  this  singular  enter 
prise  were  called.  Captain  Trigger  having  protested 
against  the  dismantling  of  the  vessel  and  the  confisca 
tion  of  its  cargo, —  which  was  as  far  as  he  could  go, 
—  announced  that  he  would  abide  by  any  satisfactory 
plan  to  salvage  the  property.  He  required  an  official, 
documentary  report,  however,  in  which  every  item  re 
moved  was  accounted  for,  with  its  condition  and  value 
set  down  and  sworn  to  by  responsible  persons.  The 
purser,  Mr.  Codge,  and  First  Officer  Mott  represented 
the  Captain  in  this  operation,  while  the  consignees  were 
properly  taken  care  of  by  Michael  O'Malley  Malone, 
the  lawyer,  James  K.  Jones,  the  promoter,  and  Moses 
Block,  the  rubber  importer.  It  is  unnecessary  to  deal 
further  with  this  feature  of  the  situation.  Suffice  it 
to  say,  the  transaction, —  if  it  may  be  so  denoted, — 
was  managed  with  the  utmost  regularity  and  formal- 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  173 

ity.  Elderly  men  and  women  were  chosen  for  the  cler 
ical  work  which  this  rather  laborious  undertaking  en 
tailed. 

On  the  crest  of  the  loftiest  hill  there  was  established 
a  permanent  observation  and  signal  station.  Near  the 
top  a  sort  of  combination  dug-out  and  shanty  was  con 
structed  by  order  of  Captain  Trigger,  and  day  and 
night,  week  in  and  week  out,  watches  were  kept  similar 
to  those  maintained  on  board  ship. 

While  the  entire  company,  high  and  low,  worked 
with  a  zeal  that  eventually  resulted  in  a  state  of  good- 
natured  though  intense  rivalry  in  skill  and  accom 
plishment, —  while  they  were  generally  cheerful  and 
courageous, —  there  was  a  profound  lack  of  gaiety.  In 
the  eyes  of  each  and  every  one  of  them  lay  the  never- 
vanishing  shadow  of  anxiety, —  an  eternal  unspoken 
question.  The  hardest,  fiercest  faces  wore  a  wistful 
expression;  the  broadest  smile  revealed  a  touch  of  sad 
ness.  Over  all,  however,  the  surpassing  spirit  of  kind 
ness  and  generosity  presided. 

Calamity  had  softened  the  hearts  in  the  same  crucible 
that  hardened  the  hands.  The  arrogance  of  the 
strong  mellowed  into  consideration  for  the  weak;  wis 
dom  and  culture  went  hand  in  hand  with  ignorance  and 
brawn ;  malice  and  rancour  left  the  hearts  of  the  lowly 
and  met  half-way  the  departing  insolence  of  the  lofty ; 
fellowship  took  root  and  throve  in  a  field  rich  with  good 
deeds.  The  heart  of  man  was  master  here,  the  brain 
its  humble  servant. 

Landover  worked  hard,  doggedly.  To  all  outward 
appearances,  he  had  resigned  himself  to  the  inevitable. 
He  affected  a  spirit  of  camaraderie  and  good  humour 
that  deceived  many.  Down  in  his  heart,  however,  he 
was  bitterly  rebellious.  He  despised  these  people  as  a 


174  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

class.  In  his  estimation,  all  creatures  who  worked  for 
a  living  were  branded  with  the  obnoxious  iron  of  so 
cialism;  he  even  went  so  far  as  to  believe  that  they 
were,  after  a  fashion,  anarchists !  His  conception  of 
anarchy  was  rather  far-reaching;  it  took  in  every 
thing  that  was  contrary  to  his  notion  of  a  satisfactory 
distribution  of  wealth.  He  believed  that  every  man 
who  worked  for  a  wage  was  at  heart  an  enemy  to  law 
and  order.  He  regarded  the  wage-earner  as  one  whose 
"hand  is  eternally  against  the  employer,  absolutely  with 
out  honour,  justice  or  reason.  The  workingman  was 
for  self,  always  for  self, —  and  to  Landover  that  was 
anarchy. 

The  thought  that  people, —  men  and  women, —  of  the 
lower  classes  possessed  physical  and  mental  qualities 
similar  to  those  possessed  by  himself,  even  in  a  modified 
form,  was  not  only  repugnant  to  him  but  incredible. 
They  had  none  of  the  finer  emotions, —  such  as  love, 
for  instance.  He  could  .not  conceive  of  a  labouring 
man  loving  his  wife  and  children;  it  wasn't  natural! 
He  pictured  the  home-life  of  the  lower  classes  as  noth 
ing  short  of  indecent ;  there  couldn't  be  anything  fine  or 
noble  or  enduring  in  the  processes  of  birth,  existence 
and  death  as  related  to  them.  Nature  took  its  course 
with  them,  and  society, —  as  represented  by  the  class 
to  which  he  belonged, —  provided  for  the  litters  they 
cast  upon  the  world.  In  a  word,  Abel  Landovfcr's  fa 
ther  and  grandfather  and  great-grandfather  had  been 
rich  men  before  him. 

He  despised  Captain  Trigger  for  the  simple  reason 
that  that  faithful,  gallant  sailor  was  an  employe  of 
the  company  in  which  he  was  a  director.  It  meant 
nothing  to  him  that  Captain  Trigger  came  of  fine, 
hardy,  valiant  stock;  it  meant  less  to  him  that  he  was 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  175 

a  law  unto  himself  aboard  the  Doraine.  For,  when  all 
was  said  and  done,  Captain  Trigger  worked  for  just 
so  much  money  per  month  and  doubtless  hated  the  men 
who  paid  him  his  wage.  On  board  the  Doraine, —  as 
was  the  case  with  all  other  vessels  on  which  he  chose 
to  sail, —  the  banker  sat  at  the  Captain's  table.  But 
he  did  not  consider  that  to  be  a  distinction  or  an  hon 
our;  it  was  his  due.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  he  looked 
upon  himself  as  the  real  head  of  the  Captain's  table ! 

Half  a  dozen  persons  in  all  that  company  comprised 
Landover's  circle  of  desirables.  Of  the  rest,  most  of 
them  were  impossible,  three-fourths  of  them  were  "  an 
archists,"  all  of  them  were  beneath  notice, —  except  as 
listeners.  As  for  Percival,  if  that  young  man  was  not 
literally  and  actually  a  bandit,  at  least  he  had  all  the 
instincts  of  one.  In  any  case,  he  was  a  "  bum." 
Whenever  Mr.  Landover  was  at  a  loss  for  a  word  to 
express  contumely  for  his  fellow-man, —  and  he  was 
seldom  at  a  loss, —  he  called  him  a  "  bum." 

The  women  on  board  were  divided  into  three  classes 
in  Landover's  worldly  opinion:  the  kind  you  would 
marry  (rare),  the  kind  you  wouldn't  marry  (plenti 
ful),  and  the  kind  you  wouldn't  have  to  marry  (com 
mon).  He  put  Olga  Obosky  and  Careni-Amori  in  this 
rather  extensive  third  class,  and  even  went  so  far  as  to 
set  what  he  considered  a  fair  value  upon  them  as  hu 
man  commodities! 

He  worked  with  the  gang  of  "  log-toters,"  a  term 
supplied  by  Percival.  They  were  the  men  who  carried 
or  dragged  the  trimmed  tree-trunks  from  the  forest  to 
the  camp  site,  where  they  were  subsequently  hewn  into 
shape  for  structural  purposes  by  the  more  skilful  han 
dlers  of  ax  and  wedge  and  saw. 

A  certain  man  named  Manuel  Crust  was  the  fore- 


176  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

man  of  this  gang.  He  was  a  swarthy,  powerful  "  Por- 
tugee  "  who  was  on  his  way  to  Rio  to  kill  the  pal  who 
had  run  away  with  his  wife.  He  was  going  up  there 
to  kill  Sebastian  Cabral  and  live  happily  for  ever 
afterward.  His  idea  of  future  happiness  was  to  sit 
by  the  fireside  in  his  declining  years  and  pleasantly 
ruminate  over  the  variety  of  deaths  he  had  inflicted 
upon  the  loathsome  Sebastian.  In  the  first  place,  he 
was  going  to  strangle  him  with  his  huge,  gnarled  hands ; 
then  he  was  going  to  cut  off  his  ears  and  nose  and 
stuff  them  into  the  vast  slit  he  had  made  in  his  throat ; 
then  he  would  dig  his  heart  out  with  a  machete ;  then, 
one  by  one,  he  would  expertly  amputate  his  legs,  arms 
and  tongue ;  afterwards  he  would  go  through  the  grisly 
process  of  disemboweling  him;  and,  then,  in  the  end, 
he  would  build  a  nice,  roaring  fire  and  destroy  what 
remained  of  Sebastian.  Inasmuch  as  either  of  these 
sanguinary  and  successive  measures  might  reasonably 
be  expected  to  produce  the  desired  result,  it  will  be 
seen  that  Sebastian  was  doomed  to  experience  at  least 
six  horrific  deaths  before  the  avenger  got  through  with 
him.  At  any  rate,  if  one  could  believe  Manuel, —  and 
there  seemed  to  be  no  end  of  conviction  in  the  way  he 
expressed  himself, —  the  luckless  home-wrecker,  if  he 
lived  long  enough,  was  absolutely  certain  to  die. 

Landover  took  a  strange  fancy  to  Manuel  Crust. 
He  was  drawn  to  him  in  the  first  place  by  the  blas 
phemous  things  he  said  about  Percival.  In  the  second 
place,  he  enjoyed  Manuel's  vituperative  remarks  about 
cutting  the  liver  out  of  the  "  boss."  Notwithstanding 
the  fact  that  Manuel  was  more  or  less  given  to  cutting 
the  livers  out  of  remote  and  invisible  persons, —  in 
cluding  King  Alfonso,  the  Kaiser,  Queen  Victoria  (he 
didn't  know  she  was  dead),  King  Manuel,  the  Czar  of 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  177 

Russia,  the  Presidents  of  all  the  South  American  re 
publics,  the  Sultan  of  Turkey,  President  Roosevelt, 
and  Sebastian  Cabral, —  Mr.  Landover  positively  loved 
to  hear  him  talk.  He  made  a  point  of  getting  him  to 
talk  about  Percival  a  great  deal  of  the  time.  He  also 
liked  the  way  in  which  the  prodigious  Manuel  deferred 
to  him.  It  inspired  the  philanthropic  motives  that  led 
him  to  share  his  very  excellent  cigars  with  the  doughty 
foreman.  Moreover,  he  had  something  far  back  in  his 
mind,  had  Mr.  Abel  Landover. 

Percival  was  indefatigable.  He  set  the  example  for 
every  one  else,  and  nothing  daunted  him.  The  sceptics, 
—  and  there  were  many  of  them  at  the  start, —  no 
longer  shook  their  heads  as  they  went  about  what  once 
had  loomed  as  a  hopeless  enterprise,  for  to  their  aston 
ishment  and  gratification  the  "  camp  "  was  actually 
becoming  a  substantial  reality. 

The  small  group  of  men  who,  for  obvious  reasons, 
had  courted  the  favour  of  Abel  Landover  at  the  outset, 
now  went  out  of  their  way  to  "  stand  in "  with  the 
amazingly  popular  man  of  the  hour. 

He  represented  power,  he  stood  for  achievement,  he 
rode  on  the  crest  of  the  wave, —  and  so  they  believed 
in  him!  Landover  may  havfc  been  a  wizard  in  New 
York,  but  the  wizard  of  Trigger  Island  was  quite  an 
other  person  altogether, —  hence  the  very  sensible  de 
fection. 

These  gentlemen  openly  and  ardently  opposed  him 
on  one  occasion,  however.  It  was  when  he  proposed 
that  the  island  should  be  named  for  the  beloved  Cap 
tain.  They  insisted  that  it  be  called  Percival  Island. 
Failing  in  this,  they  advocated  with  great  enthusiasm, 
but  with  no  success,  the  application  of  Percival's  name 
to  almost  every  noticeable  peculiarity  that  the  island 


178  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

possessed.  They  objected  fiercely  to  the  adoption  of 
such  titles  as  these:  Mott  Haven  (the  basin);  Split 
Mountain ;  Gray  Ridge  ( after  the  lamented  Chief  En 
gineer  ) ;  Penguin  Rocks ;  The  Gate  of  the  Winds ;  Top 
o'  the  Morning  Peak;  Dismal  Forest  (west  of  the  chan 
nel)  ;  Peter  Pan  Wood  (east  of  the  channel)  ;  Good 
Luck  Channel;  Cypress  Point;  Cape  Sunrise  (the  ex 
treme  easterly  end  of  the  island);  Leap-frog  River; 
Little  Sandy  and  Big  Sandy  (the  beaches);  Cracko- 
day  Farm;  New  Gibraltar  (the  western  end  of  the 
island)  ;  St.  Anthony  Falls.  Michael  O'Malley  Malone 
christened  the  turbulent  little  waterfall  up  in  the  hills. 
He  liked  the  sound  of  the  name,  he  claimed,  and  besides 
it  was  about  time  the  stigma  of  shame  that  had  so 
long  rested  upon  the  poor  old  saint  was  rewarded  by 
complete  though  belated  vindication. 

Strange  to  say,  no  name  was  ever  proposed  for  the 
"  camp."  Back  in  the  mind  of  each  and  every  mem 
ber  of  the  lost  company  lay  the  unvoiced  belief, — 
amounting  to  superstition, —  that  it  would  be  tempting 
fate  to  speak  of  this  long  row  of  cabins  as  anything 
more  enduring  than  "  the  camp." 

Notwithstanding  his  dominant  personality  and  the 
remarkable  capacity  he  had  for  real  leadership,  Per- 
cival  was  a  simple,  sensitive  soul.  He  writhed  under 
the  lash  of  conspicuous  adulation,  and  there  was  a  good 
deal  of  it  going  on. 

The  satiric  Randolph  Fitts,  notwithstanding  his  un 
questioned  admiration  for  the  younger  man,  took  an 
active  delight  in  denouncing  what  he  was  prone  to 
allude  to  as  Percival's  political  aspirations.  It  is  only 
fair  to  state  that  Fitts  confined  his  observations  to  a 
very  small  coterie  of  friends,  chief  among  whom  was 
the  subject  himself. 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  179 

"  You  are  the  smartest  politician  I've  ever  encoun 
tered,  and  that's  saying  a  good  deal,"  he  remarked  one 
evening  as  he  sat  smoking  with  a  half  dozen  companions 
in  front  of  one  of  the  completed  huts.  They  were 
ranged  in  a  row,  like  so  many  birds,  their  tired  backs 
against  the  "  fa£ade  "  of  the  cabin,  their  legs  stretched 
out  in  front  of  them.  "  You're  too  deep  for  me.  I 
don't  see  just  what  your  game  is,  A.  A.  If  there  was 
a  chance  to  graft,  I'd  say  that  was  it,  but  you  could 
graft  here  for  centuries  and  have  nothing  to  show  for 
it  but  fresh  air.  Even  if  you  were  to  run  for  the 
office  of  king,  or  sultan  or  shah,  you  wouldn't  get  any 
thing  but  votes, —  and  you'd  get  about  all  of  'em,  I'll 
say  that  for  you.  To  a  man,  the  women  would  vote 
for  you, —  especially  if  you  were  to  run  for  sultan. 
What  is  your  game  ?  " 

Percival  smoked  in  silence,  his  gaze  fixed  on  the 
moonlit  line  of  trees  across  the  field. 

"  And  speaking  of  women,  that  reminds  me,"  went 
on  Fitts.  "  When  does  my  lord  and  master  intend  to 
transplant  our  crop  of  ladies?  " 

"What's  that,  Fitts?"  said  Percival,  called  out  of 
his  dream. 

"Ladies, —  what  about  'em?  When  do  they  come 
ashore  to  occupy  the  mansions  we  have  prepared  for 
them?" 

"  Captain  Trigger  suggests  next  week." 
"  What's  he  got  to  do  with  it?     Ain't  you  king?  " 
"  He's  got  a  lot  to  do  with  it,  you  blithering  boob." 
"  Besides,"  drawled  Peter  Snipe,  the  novelist,  pick 
ing  doggedly   at   the   calloused   ridges   on   one   of   his 
palms,  "  some  of  the  women  object  to  moving  in  the 
dark  of  the  moon.     They  say  it's  sure  to  bring  bad 
luck." 


180  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

"  There's  quite  a  mixup  about  it,"  observed  Flatt- 
ner.  "  Part  of  'em  claim  it's  good  luck.  Madame 
Obosky  says  she  never  had  any  good  luck  moving  by 
the  light  of  the  moon,  and  Careni-Amori  says  she  doesn't 
blame  her  for  feeling  that  way.  Sort  of  cattish  way 
of  implying  that  the  fair  Olga  could  get  along  without 
any  moon  at  all.  Professional  jealousy,  I  suppose." 

"  I  was  speaking  to  Miss  Clinton  about  it  today," 
remarked  Michael  Malone. 

"  What  does  she  think  about  it  ?  "  from  Percival. 

"  I  don't  know.  She  asked  me  what  I  thought  about 
it." 

"  And  what  did  you  tell  her?  " 

"  I  told  her  I  wasn't  a  woman,  and  that  let  me  out. 
Being  a  man,  I'm  not  entitled  to  a  vote  or  an  opinion, 
and  I'd  be  very  much  obliged  to  her  if  she'd  not  try 
to  drag  me  into  it, —  and  to  answer  my  question  if 
she  could.  Whereupon  she  said  she  was  in  favour  of 
moving  by  the  light  of  the  sun,  and  payin'  no  attention 
at  all  to  the  moon.  Which  I  thought  was  a  very  in 
telligent  arrangement.  You  see,  if  they  move  in  the 
daytime  the  damned  old  moon  won't  know  anything 
about  it  till  it's  too  late  and — " 

"  You're  the  first  Irisher  I've  ever  seen  who  wasn't 
superstitious,  Mike,"  broke  in  Fitts,  with  enthusiasm. 
"  It  takes  a  great  load  off  my  mind.  Now  I  can  ask 
you  why  the  devil  you've  never  returned  that  pocket- 
knife  of  mine.  I  thought  you  had  some  sort  of  super 
stition  about  it.  A  good  many  people, —  really  bright 
and  otherwise  intelligent  people, —  firmly  believe  it's 
bad  luck  to  return  anything  that's  been  borrowed.  I 
suppose  I've  owned  fifty  umbrellas  in  my  time.  The 
only  man  who  ever  returned  one, —  but  you  know  what 
happened  without  my  telling  you.  He  got  caught  in  a 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  181 

sudden  shower  on  his  way  home  from  my  apartment 
after  making  a  special  trip  to  return  it,  and  died  some 
three  years  later  of  pneumonia.  Sick  two  days,  I 
heard.  So,  as  long  as  you're  not  a  bit  superstitious 
about  it,  I'd  thank  you  — " 

"  I'd  have  you  know  that  I  never  keep  anything  I 
borrow, —  that  is,  never  more  than  a  day.  It's  against 
my  principles.  Don't  ask  me  for  your  dommed  old 
knife.  I  lent  it  weeks  ago  to  Soapy  Shay." 

"You  did?"  cried  Fitts,  incredulity  and  relief  in 
his  voice.  "  Much  obliged.  I  haven't  been  able  to  look 
Soapy  in  the  face  for  a  month.  Did  he  recognize  it?  " 

"  I  think  he  did.     He  kissed  it." 

"  Landover  tried  to  borrow  my  lead  pencil  yester 
day,"  remarked  Flattner.  "  Finally  offered  to  put  up 
his  letter  of  credit  as  security.  I  gave  him  the  laugh. 
That  lead  pencil  is  worth  more  than  all  the  letters  of 
credit  lumped  together.  He  wanted  to  write  a  note. 
So  I  agreed  to  let  him  use  it  if  he  wouldn't  take  it  out 
of  my  sight  and  on  condition  that  he  didn't  write  more 
than  five  or  six  line's.  But  when  he  made  as  if  he  was 
going  to  sharpen  it,  I  threatened  him  with  an  ax.  Can 
you  beat  that  for  wastefulness?  These  low-down  rich 
don't  know  the  meaning  of  frugality.  Why,  if  I  hadn't 
stopped  him  he  might  have  whittled  off  five  thousand 
dollars'  worth  of  lead,  just  like  that.  I  also  had  to 
caution  him  about  bearing  down  too  hard  while  he  was 
writing." 

"  What  was  he  wanting  to  write  a  note  for?  "  de 
manded  Malone.  "  Has  he  lost  his  voice?  " 

"  It  was  a  note  of  apology.  He  says  he  never  fails 
to  write  a  note  of  apology  when  he's  done  something 
he's  ashamed  of,  or  words  to  that  effect.  Lifelong 
practice,  he  says." 


182  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

"  Who  was  he  apologizin'  to  ?  " 

"  That  little  nurse,  Miss  Lake, —  the  one  with  the 
coral  ear-rings.  You  know,  Mike.  I  saw  you  carry 
ing  a  bucket  of  water  for  her  yesterday." 

"  Her  name  isn't  Lake/'  said  Malone.  "  It's  Hard- 
wickley.  And  if  you  had  your  eyes  open,  you'd  have 
seen  me  carrying  one  for  her  every  day,  so  you  would, 
my  lad." 

"The  damned  villain!"  exploded  Flattner.  "He 
told  me  her  name  was  Lake, —  word  with  only  four  let 
ters, —  and  she  turns  out  to  have  —  let's  see, —  eleven! 
I  call  that  pretty  shifty  work,  I  do.  You  can't  trust 
these  wizards  of  Wall  Street.  They'll  do  you  every 
crack,  if  you  don't  keep  your  eye  peeled.  Hornswog- 
gled  me  out  of  seven  letters." 

"  You've  got  to  watch  'em,"  mused  Pitts.  "  What 
was  he  apologizing  to  her  for?  " 

"  Something  to  do  with  his  washing.  I  don't  just 
remember  what  it  was,  but  I  think  she  didn't  iron  and 
fold  his  handkerchiefs  properly,  or  maybe  it  was  his 
collars.  In  any  case,  he  panned  her  for  it,  and  after 
wards  repented.  Told  me  in  so  many  words  that  he 
felt  like  a  blooming  cad  about  it,  and  couldn't  rest  till 
he  had  apologized." 

Fitts  took  several  puffs  at  his  pipe  and  then  re 
marked  :  "  That  man  has  the  biggest  wash  of  any 
body  in  this  camp.  I  don't  see  any  real  reason  why 
he  should  change  collars  three  times  a  day  while  he's 
hauling  logs  down  from  the  hills.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
what's  the  sense  of  wearing  a  collar  at  all?  Most  of 
us  don't  even  wear  shirts.  'See  here,  your  majesty, — 
begging  your  pardon  for  disturbing  your  thoughts  with 
my  foot, —  why  don't  you  issue  a  manifesto  or  edict 
or  something  prohibiting  the  use  of  collars  except  on 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  183 

holidays,    or   at   weddings,    funerals    and    so    forth?" 

Percival  yawned.  "  If  Landover  didn't  have  a  collar 
on  he'd  think  he  was  stark  naked.  Gosh,  I'd  like  to  go 
to  bed." 

"  Why  don't  you  ?  We'll  call  you  as  soon  as  we 
get  any  news,"  said  Flattner. 

"  No,  I'll  stick  it  out  a  while  longer.  I  say,  Flat, 
it  begins  to  look  as  if  there's  real  wheat  coming  up 
over  there  after  all.  Old  Pedro  was  telling  me  today 
that  it  looks  like  a  cinch  unless  we  got  it  sowed  too  late 
and  cold  weather  comes  along  too  soon.  I  never 
dreamed  we'd  get  results.  Putting  out  spring  wheat 
in  virgin  soil  like  this  is  a  new  one  on  me.  If  it  does 
thrive  and  deliver,  by  gosh,  a  whole  lot  of  agricultural 
dope  will  be  knocked  to  pieces.  I  thought  spring  wheat 
had  to  be  sown  in  land  that  was  ploughed  the  fall  be 
fore.  What's  the  explanation?  " 

"  You  can't  explain  nature,  A.  A.,"  said  Percy  Kna- 
pendyke.  "  Nature  does  so  darned  many  unnatural 
things  that  you  can't  pin  your  faith  to  it  at  all.  Of 
course,  it  was  a  pure  experiment  we  made.  We  hap 
pened  to  have  a  lot  of  hard  spring  wheat,  and  this 
alluvial  soil,  deep  and  rich,  was  worth  tackling.  Old 
Pedro  was  as  much  surprised  as  I  was  when  it  began 
to  come  up.  Using  that  fertilizer  was  an  experiment, 
too.  He  swore  it  wouldn't  help  a  bit.  Now  he  just 
scratches  his  head  and  says  God  did  it.  We've  got 
fifty  acres  out  there  as  green  as  paint  and  you  can 
almost  see  it  grow.  If  nothing  happens  we  ought  to 
harvest  it  by  the  middle  of  February,  and  if  God  keeps 
on  doing  things  for  us,  we  may  get  as  much  as  twenty- 
five  bushels  to  the  acre.  It's  different  with  the  oats. 
You  can  plant  oats  on  unploughed  land,  just  as  we 
did,  and  you  can't  stop  it  growing.  The  oats  field 


184  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

up  there  along  the  base  of  the  hills  is  a  peach.  Takes 
about  ninety  days  for  oats  to  ripen.  That  means 
we'll  harvest  it  in  about  two  months,  and  we'll  beat  the 
cold  weather  to  it.  Forty  or  fifty  to  the  acre,  if  we 
have  any  luck  at  all.  Potatoes  doing  well  and- 
Say,  did  I  tell  you  what  I've  found  out  about  that  stuff 
growing  over  there  in  the  lowlands  beyond  the  river? 
Well,  it's  flax.  It's  the  same  sort  of  thing  that  grows 
in  New  Zealand.  Those  plants  I  was  pointing  out  to 
you  last  week, —  the  ones  with  the  long  brownish 
leaves,  like  swords.  There's  no  mistake  about  it.  I 
took  those  two  Australian  sailors  over  to  look  at  'em 
a  day  or  two  ago  and  they  swear  it's  the  same  plant, 
growing  wild.  Same  little  capsule  shaped  fruit,  with 
the  little  black  seeds,  and  everything.  I've  been  read 
ing  up  on  it  in  the  encyclopedia.  You  cut  those  leaves 
off  when  they  get  to  be  full  size,  macerate  'em  in  water 
for  a  few  days,  sun  dry  'em,  and  then  weave  'em  some 
way  or  another.  We'll  have  to  work  that  out. 
Strongest  sort  of  fibre  in  the  leaves.  Makes  a  very 
stout  cloth,  rope,  twine, —  all  that  sort  of  thing. 
Opens  up  a  new  and  important  industry,  boys, —  par 
ticularly  obnoxious  to  married  men.  We'll  be  having 
dress-making  establishments  in  full  blast  before  you 
know  it,  and  model  gowns  till  you  can't  rest.  I  almost 
hate  to  spread  the  news  among  the  women.  We  won't 
have  a  cook,  or  a  laundress,  or  a  school-teacher  on  the 
Island  if  this  dressmaking  craze  gets  started.  Every 
hut  along  this  row  will  have  a  sign  beside  the  door: 
4  Dressmaking  Done  Here.'  On  the  other  hand,  I  doubt 
very  much  if  we'll  be  able  to  get  a  single  tailor-shop 
going, —  and  God  knows  I'll  soon  need  a  new  pair  of 
pants,  especially  if  we're  going  to  have  regular  church 
services  every  Sunday,  as  Percival  says." 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  185 

"  Father  Francisco  and  Parson  Mackenzie  have 
finally  got  together  on  it,"  said  Malone  gloomily. 
"  For  the  first  time  in  the  history  of  civilization  we're 
going  to  have  a  combination  Catholic  and  Protestant 
Church.  It's  all  arranged.  Father  Francisco  is  go 
ing  to  conduct  mass  in  the  morning  and  Parson  Mac 
kenzie  is  going  to  talk  about  hell-fire  in  the  evening.  I 
was  wondering  what  the  Jews  are  going  to  do  for  a 
synagogue  and  a  rabbi." 

"  I  can't  answer  that  question,"  said  Peter  Snipe ; 
"  but  Morris  Shine  tackled  me  the  other  day  to  write 
a  play  for  him,  something  with  music  and  dancing  in 
it.  He's  got  a  great  idea,  he  says.  A  stock  company 
to  use  the  church  building  once  a  month.  Expects  to 
submit  his  scheme  to  Fitts  as  soon  as  he  gets  it  worked 
out,  with  the  idea  of  having  our  prize  little  architect 
provide  for  a  stage  with  ecclesiastical  props  in  the 
shape  of  pulpits  and  chancels  and  so  forth,  which  can 
be  removed  on  short  notice.  Suggests,  as  a  matter  of 
thrift,  that  footlights  be  put  in  instead  of  altar  can 
dles.  Free  show,  free  acting,  no  advertising  bills,  no 
royalties  to  authors,  free  programs, —  everything  free, 
including  supper." 

"  Grand  little  idea,  Pete,"  said  Percival.  "  Are  you 
going  to  write  the  play  ?  " 

"  Sure.  My  faithful  old  typewriter  is  aching  to  be 
thumped  once  more, —  and  I've  got  half-a-dozen  extra 
ribbons,  thank  God.  Good  for  two  long  novels  and  an 
epitaph.  Just  as  soon  as  we  can  get  the  ship's  print 
ing  press  and  dining-room  type  ashore,  I'll  be  ready  to 
issue  The  Trigger  Island  Transcript,  w.t.f. —  if  you 
know  what  that  means,  I  see  you  don't.  Weekly  till 
forbidden." 

"  I've  always  wondered  what  those  confounded  letters 


186  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

meant  down  in  the  corner  of  the  half-inch  advertise 
ments,"  said  Flattner.  "  It  will  be  a  rotten-looking 
newspaper  if  it's  anything  like  the  sheet  the  Doraine 
put  ou_t  on  the  trip  down.  No  two  letters  matched, 
and  some  of  *em  were  always  upside  down.  Why  were 
they  upside  down,  Pete?  You're  an  old  newspaper 
man.  Tell  us." 

"  Because  it's  impossible  to  set  'em  sideways.  If  it 
was  possible,  the  blamed  printers  could  do  it,  you  bet. 
When  I  was  writing  leaders  on  the  Saxville  Citizen 
years  ago  there  was  a  ruffian  up  in  the  composing-room 
who  used  to  set  whole  paragraphs  of  my  best  editorials 
in  em  quads,  and  when  I  kicked, —  Hello,  isn't  that  a 
lantern,  A.  A.?" 

They  all  scrambled  to  their  feet  and  peered  intently 
in  the  direction  of  the  wooded  strip  that  lined  the  chan 
nel.  This  whilom  conversation  came  to  an  abrupt  end. 
Ghostly  forms  suddenly  took  shape  in  front  of  other 
huts,  figures  of  men  that  were  until  then  as  logs  in  the 
shadows.  Far  off  in  the  road  through  the  wood,  a 
light  bobbed,  flashed  and  disappeared  intermittently, 
and  finally  emerged  into  the  open  and  came  steadily 
forward.  Detached  knots  of  men  down  the  line  of  huts, 
twos  and  threes  and  fours,  swiftly  welded  themselves 
into  groups,  and,  hurrying  forward,  swelled  the  crowd 
that  congregated  at  the  end  of  the  "  street."  Two 
hundred  of  them,  tired  but  eager,  awaited  the  arrival 
of  the  man  with  the  lantern. 

These  were  the  men  who  slept  on  shore,  the  unmar 
ried  men,  those  who  had  no  "  feminine  hearth,"  as  Snipe 
put  it  dolefully  one  dark  and  windy  night.  Since  sup 
per-time  these  men  had  been  waiting  and  watching. 
But  few  of  them  had  gone  to  bed.  Gentleman  and 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  187 

roustabout,  one  and  all,  were  linked  together  by  a  com 
mon  anxiety.  News  of  the  greatest  import  was  ex 
pected  during  the  night. 

A  child  was  coming  to  the  pathetic  little  widow  of 
Cruise,  the  radio-man. 

Two  messengers  had  gone  down  to  the  landing  to 
wait  for  the  report  to  be  shouted  from  the  afterdeck  of 
the  Doraine, —  Soapy  Shay  and  Buck  Chizler,  the 
jockey.  Now  they  were  returning, —  and  it  was  near- 
ing  midnight. 

They  drew  near,  the  lantern  buffeting  the  legs  of  the 
one-time  diamond  thief  as  he  swung  along  in  the  rear  of 
the  more  active  jockey. 

"  It's  a  girl,"  called  out  Buck  to  the  silent  mob. 
Not  a  sound,  not  a  word  from  the  eager  crowd. 
"  Mother  and  kid  both  doing  well,'*  went  on  the  jockey, 
a  thrilling  note  of  triumph  in  his  voice. 

And  then  a  roar  of  voices  went  up  to  the  moonlit 
sky.  The  shackles  of  doubt  and  anxiety  fell  away, 
and  every  heart  swelled  with  joy  and  relief.  Men  be 
gan  to  dance  and  laugh.  Out  in  front  of  the  crowd 
leaped  Percival. 

"  Come  on  now,  fellows !  Everybody  up !  Three 
cheers  for  the  Trigger  Island  baby !  One  —  two  — 
three !  " 

And  while  the  last  wild  cheer  was  echoing  back  from 
the  mountainside :  "  Now,  three  good  ones  for  thd 
baby's  mother,  God  bless  her !  " 

Thrice  again  the  exultant  yells  echoed  across  the 
plain,  and  then  out  leaped  another  excited  figure.  It 
was  Nicklestick  the  Jew. 

66  Come  on !  Come  on !  Ve  got  to  light  the  bon 
fires!  Come  on!  I  got  the  matches!  Vait !  Vait! 


188  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

Let's  vait  while  we  take  off  our  hats  a  minute,  boys, — 
take  them  off  to  our  baby's  father,  Jimmy  Cruise.  No 
cheers !  " 

A  hush  fell  over  the  crowd.  Every  hat  came  off, 
and  every  head  was  bent.  To  many  of  them  James 
Cruise  was  no  more  than  a  name  salvaged  from  the 
shocking  experiences  of  those  first  dreadful  days.  Few 
of  them  had  come  in  actual  contact  with  him.  The 
time  had  been  too  short.  But  Betty  Cruise,  his  widow, 
was  known  to  all  of  them,  high  and  low.  They  had 
watched  over  her,  and  protected  her,  and  slaved  for 
her,  for  besides  pity  there  was  in  every  man's  soul  the 
fiercest  desire  that  nothing, —  absolutely  nothing, — 
should  be  left  undone  to  insure  the  happy  delivery  of 
the  babe  they  were  counting  so  keenly  upon ! 

She  was  a  frail,  delicate  English  girl  whom  Cruise 
had  married  in  Buenos  Aires  the  year  before.  He  was 
taking  her  up  to  his  mother's  home  in  Connecticut. 
His  death, —  alas,  his  annihilation !  —  almost  killed  her. 
There  were  those  who  said  she  would  die  of  grief.  But, 
broken  and  frail  as  she  was,  she  made  the  fight.  And 
now  came  the  news  that  she  had  "  pulled  through." 

There  were  mothers  on  board  with  tiny  babies, — 
three  or  four  of  them,  in  fact, —  peevish,  squalling  in 
fants  that  innocently  undertook  to  inspire  loathing  in 
the  souls  of  these  self-same  men.  They  had  no  claim 
upon  the  imagination  or  the  sympathy  of  the  eager 
crowd, —  no  such  hold  as  this  newcomer,  the  child  born 
in  their  pockets,  so  to  speak, —  an  expression  first  em 
ployed  by  an  ardent  champion  of  the  impending  infant 
in  defending  his  righteous  solicitude  when  it  was  at 
tacked  by  a  sophisticated  and  at  the  same  time  exas 
perated  nurse. 

Two  bonfires  were  started  in  the  open  space  known 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  189 

as  "  The  Green."  The  huge  piles  of  twigs  and  branches 
had  been  thrown  up  earlier  in  the  evening.  They  were 
in  plain  view  of  the  "  lookout  "  at  the  top  of  Split 
Mountain.  It  had  been  agreed  that  if  it  was  a  boy 
one  fire  was  to  be  the  signal ;  if  a  girl,  two.  The 
"  watch  "  was  to  share  in  the  glad  tidings ! 

The  cheering  awoke  Abel  Landover  from  a  sound 
sleep.  He  turned  in  his  bunk  and  growled : 

"  The  damned  idiots !  " 

Mr.  Landover  did  not  like  children.  He  declined  to 
sit  up  half  the  night  to  find  out  "  how  things  were  go 
ing."  So  he  went  to  bed,  knowing  perfectly  well  that 
his  three  bunkies  would  come  piling  in  at  some  out 
landish  hour  and  jabber  about  the  "kid," — and  he 
wouldn't  be  able  to  get  back  to  sleep  again  for  hours. 

He  was  what  is  commonly  known  as  a  "  grass  wid 
ower."  His  wife  rather  too  promptly  married  inside 
of  a  month  after  leaving  Reno,  and,  much  to  her  own 
gratification  and  joy,  proceeded  to  have  three  very 
desirable  children  within  a  period  of  five  years,  caus 
ing  him  a  great  deal  of  pain  and  annoyance  for  the 
reason  that  their  father  had  once  been  regarded  as  his 
best  friend, —  and  now  he  couldn't  abide  the  sight  of 
him.  He  hated  children.  Now  you  know  the  kind 
of  a  man  he  was. 

Five  tired  and  thoughtful  men  were  going  to  bed  a 
little  later  on  in  one  of  the  huts. 

"What  shall  we  call  her?"  came  from  Randolph 
Fitts,  as  he  threw  one  of  his  clay-covered  shoes  into 
the  corner. 

"  There's  only  one  name  for  her,"  said  Percival 
firmly,  from  the  edge  of  his  bunk.  "We'll  call  her 
Doraine." 

"  Good  shot !  "  cried  Peter  Snipe.     "  I  had  two  names 


190  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

in  mind,  but  Doraine's  got  'em  both  beat.  It  may  not 
be  as  pretty  as  Angelica,  but  it's  more  appropriate. 
Mortimer  was  the  other  name  I  had  in  mind." 

"  Yep,"  was  the  smothered  decision  of  Michael  Ma- 
lone.  His  shirt  came  off,  and  then  he  spoke  more  dis 
tinctly.  "  We  can't  do  better  than  to  name  her  after 
her  birthplace.  That's  her  name.  Doraine  Cruise. 
It  sounds  Irish.  Got  music  in  it.  All  Irish  names 
have, —  leaving  out  Michael  and  Patrick  and  Cornelius 
and  others  applied  solely  to  the  creatures  who  don't 
take  after  their  blessed  mothers  and  who  grow  up  to  be 
policemen  and  hod-carriers,  with  once  in  awhile  a  law 
yer  or  labour-leader  to  glorify  the  saints  they  were 
named  for,  and  —  Yes,  begorry,  Doraine's  her  name." 

And  so  it  was  that,  with  an  arbitrary  quaintness, 
the  babe  was  named  without  so  much  as  a  thought  of 
consulting  the  mother.  They  assumed  a  proprietary 
interest  in  her,  a  sort  of  corporate  ownership  that  had 
as  its  basis  a  genuine  affection  for  and  pride  in  Cruise's 
widow.  It  did  not  occur  to  one  of  them  that  she  ought 
to  have  been  considered  in  the  matter  of  naming  her 
own  child;  they  went  to  sleep  perfectly  satisfied  that 
when  the  question  was  put  to  a  general  vote  on  the 
morrow  there  wouldn't  be  a  single  dissenting  voice 
against  the  name  they  had  selected. 

And  Mrs.  Cruise  herself  would  be  very  grateful  to 
them  for  the  prompt  assistance  they  had  given  her  at 
a  time  when  she  was  in  no  condition  to  be  bothered 
with  minor  details ! 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  death  of  Betty  Cruise  occurred  the  sec 
ond  day  after  her  baby  was  born.  In  a  way, 
this  lamentable  occurrence  solved  a  knotty 
problem  and  pacified  two  warring  sexes,  so  to  speak. 
For,  be  it  known,  the  women  of  the  Doraine  took  a  most 
determined  stand  against  the  manner  in  which  the  men, 
viva  voce,  had  arrogated  unto  themselves  the  right  to 
name  the  baby.  Not  that  any  one  of  the  women  ob 
jected  to  the  name  they  had  given  her;  they  were,  in 
fact,  pleased  with  it.  But,  they  protested,  this  was  a 
matter  over  which  but  one  person  had  jurisdiction, 
and  that  person  was  Betty  Cruise.  If  it  was  not  a 
mother's  privilege  to  name  her  own  child, —  especially 
in  a  case  where  the  infant's  father  was  in  no  position 
to  decide  the  question  for  her,  whether  she  consented 
or  no,  then  all  they  could  say  was  that  things  had 
come  to  a  pretty  pass. 

At  any  rate,  they  were  going  to  see  to  it  that  the 
baby  was  not  named  by  a  mob ! 

Ruth  Clinton  went  straight  to  Fercival. 

"  I  hear  you  have  named  the  baby,  Mr.  Percival," 
she  said,  prefacing  her  remark  by  a  curt  "  good  morn- 

ing." 

It  was  the  first  time  she  had  spoken  to  him  in  many 
days.  Their  ways  not  only  lay  apart  but  she  had 
made  a  point  of  avoiding  him.  She  stopped  him  this 
morning  as  he  was  passing  the  hut  in  which  she  and 
her  aunt  were  to  live  with  two  of  the  American  nurses. 

The  three  young  women  had  spent  several  days  in 

191 


192  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

the  making  and  putting  up  of  some  very  unusual  and 
attractive  window  curtains  and  portieres ;  painting  the 
stones  that  framed  the  fireplace,  the  crude  window- 
casings  and  door  jamb;  and  in  draping  certain  corner 
recesses  which  were  to  achieve  dignity  as  clothes  closets. 
They  were  scrubbing  the  floor  when  Percival  passed  on 
his  way  to  the  "  office." 

His  "  office,"  by  the  way,  was  a  rude  "  lean-to  "  at 
the  extreme  outer  end  of  the  street.  It  was  character 
istic  of  him  to  establish  headquarters  at  a  point  farthest 
removed  from  the  approach  to  the  camp  from  the  ship. 
Fitts  was  perhaps  the  only  person  who  sensed  the  real 
motive  back  of  this  selection.  Every  one  else  attrib 
uted  it  to  an  amiable  conclusion  on  Percival's  part  to 
sacrifice  himself  for  others  by  walking  almost  twice  as 
far  as  any  of  them.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  he  had  noth 
ing  of  the  sort  in  mind.  He  deliberately  arranged  it 
so  that  all  operations  should  be  carried  on  between 
headquarters  and  "  home."  It  was  his  plan  to  drive 
inward  instead  of  outward,  to  push  always  in  one  di 
rection.  In  other  words,  thought  Fitts  quite  correctly, 
he  "  never  had  to  look  behind  him  for  trouble." 

To  save  his  life,  Percival  could  not  subdue  the  eager, 
devouring  gleam  that  flashed  into  his  eyes  as  he  looked 
into  hers.  He  could  have  cursed  himself.  A  swift 
warm  flush  raced  from  her  throat  to  her  cheeks.  Her 
direct,  steady  gaze  faltered  under  fire,  and  a  confused, 
trapped  expression  flickered  perceptibly  for  a  moment 
or  two.  He  mistook  it  for  dismay,  or,  on  second 
thought,  even  worse, —  displeasure. 

"I  —  I  can't  help  it,"  he  stammered,  surprised  into 
voicing  the  thought  that  was  uppermost.  "  You  know 
how  I  feel.  I  —  I  — " 

But    she   had    recovered   her    self-possession.     "  Do 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  193 

you  really  think  you  have  the  right  to  name  Mrs. 
Cruise's  baby?  "  she  inquired  coolly. 

He  managed  a  wry,  deprecatory  smile.  "  Every 
body  seems  to  like  the  name,  Miss  Clinton.  The  more 
I  think  of  it  myself,  the  better  it  sounds.  I  tried  it 
out  last  night  in  all  sorts  of  combinations.  It  fits 
nicely  into  almost  any  family  tree  —  even  Nicklestick's. 
Just  say  it  to  yourself.  Doraine  Nicklestick.  Try 
any  name  you  like.  Doraine  Smith,  Doraine  Humper- 
dinck,  Doraine  Landover  —  even  Doraine  Shay  —  and, 
I  tried  it  out  with  Clinton.  Doraine  Clinton.  Don't 
you  like  it?  I  even  tried  Percival.  It  isn't  quite  so 
satisfying  tacked  onto  a  name  like  mine, —  and  it's  a 
poor  beginning  for  Fitts, —  but  with  good,  sensible  sur 
names,  it's  fine." 

"  It  isn't  a  question  of  how  it  sounds,  Mr.  Perrival." 

"Don't  you  like  Doraine  Clinton?" 

"  I  like  almost  anything  better  than  Ruth.  I  sup 
pose  most  people  loathe  the  names  that  other  people 
have  given  them." 

"  No  one  knows  that  better  than  I.  I  sometimes 
wonder  what  they  might  have  called  me  if  I  were  a 
girl.  Nothing  as  nice  as  Doraine,  or  Ruth,  I'll  bet 
my  soul  on  that.  Something  like  Guinevere  Aphrodite, 
or  Desdemona  Venus,  or  — " 

"  We  are  getting  away  from  the  subject,"  she  in 
terrupted  crisply.  "  Has  it  occurred  to  you  that  poor 
little  Mrs.  Cruise  might  like  to  name  her  own  baby? 
WTiy  should  you  men  take  it  upon  yourselves  to  choose 
a  name  for  her  child?  Don't  you  think  you  were  a 
trifle  high-handed  in  the  matter?  " 

"  Of  course,  if  Mrs.  Cruise  doesn't  like  Doraine,  we 
wiU  — " 

"  You  will  suggest  another,  I  suppose,"  she  broke  in 


194  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

scornfully.  "  Well,  I  may  as  well  inform  you  that 
you  are  about  to  strike  a  snag,"  she  went  on,  a  trifle 
inelegantly  in  her  desire  to  be  emphatic.  "  We  intend 
to  see  to  it  that  the  mother  of  that  baby  gives  it  a 
name  of  her  own  choosing." 

"May  I  inquire  just  who  you  mean  by  we?"  he 
asked. 

"  The  women, —  three  hundred  of  us,  Mr.  Percival, 
that's  who.  I  for  one  happen  to  know  that  Betty 
Cruise  chose  a  name  long  ago.  Her  heart  is  set  on 
naming  the  baby  after  her  mother, —  Judith,  I  think 
it  is.  That's  the  name  she  wants,  but  do  you  imagine 
she  will  have  the  hardihood  or  the  courage,  poor  little 
scrap,  to  oppose  you,  Mr.  Percival  ?  I  mean  you,  per 
sonally.  She  thinks  your  word  is  law.  She  would  no 
more  think  of  defying  you  than  she  would  think  of  — " 

"  Pardon  me,  Miss  Clinton,"  he  interrupted  gently, 
"  but  don't  you  think  that's  a  trifle  far-fetched  ?  I  am 
not  a  dictator,  you  know.  I  fancy  Mrs.  Cruise  knows 
that,  even  if  you  do  not." 

"  I  have  heard  all  about  your  meeting  last  night," 
she  went  on  ruthlessly,  her  eyes  flashing.  "  How  you 
suggested  the  name,  how  you  settled  the  question  to 
suit  yourself,  and  how  you  called  the  men  together  this 
morning  and  told  them  that  the  child  was  to  be  called 
Doraine  before  you  asked  them  to  vote  on  it.  Vote 
on  it!  What  a  travesty!  And  no  one  had  the  nerve 
to  stand  up  and  say  a  word  for  that  poor  little  woman. 
Oh,  you've  got  them  well-tamed,  Mr.  Percival." 

By  this  time  the  two  nurses  had  appeared  in  the 
doorway,  and  several  other  women  at  work  down  the 
line,  scenting  the  fray,  were  approaching. 

"  I  guess  you'd  better  call  off  the  vote,  Mr.  Per 
cival,"  said  one  of  the  nurses,  eyeing  him  unflinchingly. 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  195 

"  I  can't  call  it  off.  The  men  adopted  the  name 
unanimously.  I  have  no  right  to  set  aside  their  deci 
sion,  no  matter  how  hastily  it  was  made,"  said  he,  be 
ginning  to  bridle  now  that  he  tasted  concerted  opposi 
tion. 

"  I  warn  you  that  I  intend  to  call  the  women, —  and 
what  few  men  there  are  with  minds  of  their  own, —  to 
gether  this  evening  to  see  that  Betty  Cruise  gets  fair 
play,"  said  Ruth.  "  When  she  hears  that  we  are  be 
hind  her,  she'll  have  the  backbone  to  tell  you  men  to 
mind  your  own  business  and  — " 

"  Have  I  a  mind  of  my  own  or  not,  Miss  Clinton?  " 
he  interrupted. 

"  You  certainly  have,"  she  declared  with  conviction. 

"  Then  you  may  expect  me  to  be  one  of  the  men  to 
attend  your  meeting.  Good  morning."  He  lifted  his 
hat,  smiled  and  walked  briskly  away. 

"  He'll  crab  the  whole  thing,"  observed  one  of  the 
women,  and  despite  her  vocal  rancour  there  was  an 
admiring  expression  in  her  eyes  as  they  followed  him 
down  the  road. 

"  If  he  wants  to  call  that  baby  Andrew  Jackson  or 
George  Washington,  he'll  have  his  way,"  said  another. 
"  Sex  won't  make  any  difference  to  him." 

"  You  just  wait  and  see,"  said  Ruth,  quivering  with 
indignation. 

"  Mercy,  how  you  must  hate  him,  Miss  Clinton," 
cried  one  of  her  house-mates. 

"  I  only  wish  I  were  a  man,"  cried  the  other,  clench 
ing  her  fists. 

"  It  would  simplify  matters  tremendously,"  came  in 
dry,  masculine  tones  from  the  outskirts  of  the  group. 
They  turned  and  discovered  Randolph  Fitts.  He  was 
smiling  s3Tmpathetically. 


196  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

"  I  don't  quite  see  what  you  mean,  Mr.  Fitts,"  said 
Ruth,  after  a  moment. 

"  Because  if  you  were  a  man,  Miss  Clinton,  you 
wouldn't  even  think  of  hating  him.  You'd  love  him." 

Miss  Clinton  stared  at  him  for  a  second  or  two  and 
then,  whirling,  entered  the  hut.  Her  cheeks  were  burn 
ing.  Who  shall  say  whether  the  tears  that  sprang 
to  her  eyes  as  she  fell  to  work  scrubbing  in  the  corner 
were  of  anger  or  self-pity? 

Briefly,  the  situation  became  quite  strained  as  the 
day  wore  on-  Women  gathered  in  little  knots  to  dis 
cuss  the  unprecedented  "  nerve  "  of  the  men.  By  night 
fall  they  were  pretty  thoroughly  worked  up  over  a 
matter  that  had  mildly  amused  them  at  the  outset  of 
the  day.  A  comparatively  small  proportion  had  cared 
one  way  or  the  other  in  the  beginning.  Most  of  them 
did  not  care  at  all.  Given  time,  however,  to  digest 
the  thought,  aided  by  such  seasoning  as  could  be  sup 
plied  by  a  half  dozen  determined  and  more  or  less  elo 
quent  voices,  they  came  in  the  course  of  a  few  hours 
to  the  conclusion  that  they  never  had  heard  of  any 
thing  so  outrageous,  and,  to  a  woman,  were  ready  to 
fight  for  little  Mrs.  Cruise's  rights ! 

Several  of  the  stewardesses  and  two  or  three  women 
from  the  second  cabin  were  avowed  and  bitter  suffra 
gettes.  Indeed,  two  of  the  stewardesses,  being  Eng 
lish,  were  of  the  hatchet-wielding,  brick-throwing  ele 
ment  that  made  things  so  warm  for  the  pained  but  bull- 
headed  male  population  of  London  shortly  before  the 
Great  War  began.  These  ladies  harangued  their  com 
panions  with  great  effect. 

To  have  heard  or  witnessed  the  little  gatherings  at 
noon  and  at  the  close  of  work  for  the  day,  one  might 
have  been  led  to  believe  that  a  grave,  portentous  ques- 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  197 

tion  of  state  was  involved.  Trifling  and  simple  as  all 
this  may  seem  to  the  reader  of  this  narrative,  it  serves 
a  definite  purpose.  It  reveals  to  a  no  uncertain  de 
gree  the  eagerness  with  which  these  castaways  reached 
out  hungrily  for  the  slightest  morsel  that  would  satisfy 
the  craving  of  active  minds  dulled  by  the  constant, 
never-absent  thought  of  self;  minds  charged  with 
thoughts  that  centred  on  something  thousands  of  miles 
away;  minds  that  seldom  if  ever  worked  in  harmony 
with  hands  that  toiled. 

The  men  took  up  the  gauntlet.  They  considered 
themselves  challenged.  Notwithstanding  the  secret 
conviction  that  the  women  were  right,  they  stood  united 
in  defence  of  their  action.  Nothing  that  Percival 
could  say  or  do  moved  them.  He  tramped  from  one 
group  of  toilers  to  another,  always  meeting  with  the 
same  grins  and  laughter  when  he  suggested  that  they 
wait  until  Mrs.  Cruise  was  able  to  approve  or  disap 
prove  of  the  name  they  had  chosen. 

"  Good  gosh !  "  cried  one  of  the  sailors.  "  Are  you 
goin'  to  give  in  to  the  women,  boss?  " 

"  Well,  I've  been  thinking  it  over,  boys.  I  guess  we 
were  a  little  too  officious.  We  meant  well,  God  knows, 
but  after  all,  Betty  Cruise  ought  to  be  consulted, — 
now,  oughtn't  she?  " 

"  Sure,"  cried  any  number  of  them  cheerfully.  "  It's 
her  kid." 

"  Well,  there  you  are,"  he  rejoined  persuasively. 

"  But  how  do  we  know  she  won't  be  tickled  to  death 
with  our  name?  She'd  ought  to  be.  It's  purtier  than 
any  name  I  can  think  of,"  argued  Jack  Wales,  a  sailor. 
"  When  she's  well  enough,  we'll  tell  her  the  kid's  name 
is  Doraine,  and  — " 

"  She  won't  hold  back  a  second,  boss,  when  she  finds 


198  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

out  that  you  picked  it  for  her,"  broke  in  another. 
"  Only  a  couple  o'  days  ago  she  was  sayin*  to  one 
of  the  other  women  in  my  hearin'  that  if  it  was  a  boy 
she  was  goin'  to  call  him  Percival, —  and  she  didn't 
know  what  on  earth  she'd  do  if  it  was  a  girl.  Said 
she'd  probably  have  to  call  it  after  her  mother  and  she 
didn't  like  her  mother's  name  a  little  bit." 

"  I  know,  but  after  all,  we  did  butt  in  a  trifle  too 
soon  with  our  — " 

"  For  God's  sake,  don't  let  any  of  these  here  women 
hear  you  talk  like  that,  boss,"  groaned  Jack  Wales, 
"  They'll  think  we're  beginning  to  hedge.  We  got  to 
stand  together  in  this  thing.  If  we  don't,  they'll  rule 
this  camp  sure  as  you're  a  foot  high.  I  don't  give  a 
dern  what  the  kid's  name  is,  far  as  I'm  concerned,  but 
on  principle,  boss,  it's  just  got  to  be  Doraine.  Doraine 
she  is  an'  Doraine  she  stays." 

Every  one  of  them  was  good-humoured  about  it. 
They  were  taking  it  as  a  rare  and  unexpected  bit  of 
politics.  The  thrill  of  opposition  invested  them. 
They  scoffed  at  surrender. 

Buck  Chizler,  however,  was  seriously  affected.  He 
was  courting  one  of  the  nurses  and  he,  for  one,  saw 
peril  in  preliminary  defeat. 

"  There  won't  be  any  living  with  5em,"  he  proclaimed, 
scowling  darkly.  "  I  know  what  it  is  to  have  'em  get 
the  bit  in  their  teeth.  You  just  can't  manage  'em, 
that's  all.  Upset  all  the  dope.  Likely  to  throw  you 
clear  over  the  fence.  Experience  ain't  a  particle  of 
use.  The  gad  don't  do  a  bit  of  good.  They  just  shut 
their  jaws,  lay  back  their  ears,  and — " 

"  We're  not  talking  about  race-horses,  Buck,"  inter 
rupted  Percival,  smiling. 

"  Neither  am  I,"  said  Buck  forcibly. 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  199 

Ruth  went  to  Olga  Obosky.  She  did  so  only  after  a 
rather  prolonged  inward  struggle.  The  Russian's  in 
terest  in  Percival  was  not  moderated  by  the  reserve 
supposed  to  be  inherent  in  women.  She  was  an  open 
idolatress.  One  had  only  to  watch  the  way  she  fol 
lowed  him  with  her  dark,  heavy-lidded  eyes  to  know 
what  was  in  her  mind.  Ruth  tried  not  to  despise  her. 
She  tried  not  to  care,  when  she  saw  Percival  laughing 
and  talking  with  this  beguiling  sensualist, —  and  it  was 
not  an  infrequent  occurrence. 

The  dancer  was  seated  on  the  floor  of  her  hut,  tailor- 
fashion,  a  cigarette  between  her  lips,  her  bare  arms 
resting  limply  on  her  knees,  her  body  bent  forward 
in  an  attitude  of  extreme  fatigue.  The  three  "  cory 
phees  "  were  busy  at  work  about  the  place  with  Olga's 
maid.  Ruth  stopped  in  the  doorway.  Olga  lazily  re 
moved  the  cigarette  from  her  lips  and  smiled. 

"  I  once  thought  I  was  very  strong  and  unbreak 
able,"  she  said,  "  but  now  I  know  I  am  not.  See,  I 
am  all  in,  as  we  would  say  in  America.  Suffering 
snakes, —  how  tired  I  am !  That  also  comes  from  Amer 
ica.  Won't  you  sit  down,  Miss  Clinton?  We  have 
three  or  four  deck  chairs,  you  see, —  and  some  cush 
ions." 

"  Why  do  you  sit  there  on  the  floor,  all  doubled  up 
and  —  heavens,  it  must  be  uncomfortable, —  if  you  are 
so  tired?  How  do  you  manage  your  legs?  " 

"  My  legs  ?  Oh,  my  legs  are  never  tired.  It  is  my 
poor  back."  Whereupon  she  slowly,  gracefully 
straightened  out  one  of  her  legs,  and  without  changing 
the  position  of  her  body,  raised  it,  with  toes  and  in 
step  on  a  perfect  line,  until  the  heel  was  some  three 
feet  from  the  floor.  Then  she  swung  it  slowly  back 
ward,  twisting  her  body  sinuously  to  one  side.  A  mo- 


200  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

inent  later  the  foot  was  stretched  out  behind  her  and 
she  lifted  herself  steadily,  without  apparent  exertion, 
upon  the  other  knee, —  and  then  stood  erect.  Ruth 
watched  this  remarkable  feat  in  wonder  and  admira 
tion. 

"How  —  how  on  earth  do  you  do  it?"  she  cried. 
"  Why, —  you  must  be  as  strong  as  —  as  —  a  — "  She 
was  about  to  say  horse,  and  floundered. 

"  But  I  trust  not  as  clumsy  as  one,"  said  Madame 
Obosky,  stretching  her  body  in  luxurious  abandon.  "  I 
sit  on  the  floor  like  zat,  my  friend,  because  my  back  is 
tired,  not  my  legs.  If  I  lie  back  in  ze  deck  chair  when 
I  am  tired,  I  would  relax, —  and  would  make  so  much 
more  regret  for  myself  when  the  time  came  to  get  up 
again.  Besides,  it  is  a  good  way  to  rest,  zis  way. 
Have  you  never  tried  it?  Do,  sometime.  The  whole 
body  rests,  it  sags ;  the  muscles  have  nothing  to  do, 
so  they  become  soft  and  grateful.  The  backbone,  the 
shoulders,  the  neck, —  they  all  droop  and  oh,  zey  — 
they  are  so  happy  to  be  like  zat.  It  is  the  same  as 
when  I  am  asleep  and  they  are  not  running  errands 
all  the  time  for  my  brain.  The  Arab  sits  like  zat  when 
he  rests, —  and  the  Hindoo, —  and  they  are  strong,  oh, 
so  very  strong.  Try  it,  sometime,  Miss  Clinton,  when 
you  are  very  tired.  It  is  the  best  way  to  let  go,  all 
over." 

Ruth  laughed.     "  I  couldn't  do  it  to  save  my  soul." 

"  Oh,  I  do  not  mean  for  you  to  get  up  as  I  did,  or 
use  your  leg  as  I  did.  You  could  not  do  zat.  You 
are  too  old.  That  is  one  of  the  fruits,  one  of  the 
benefits  of  the  crudest  kind  of  child  labour.  I  was  a 
great  many  years  in  making  myself  able  to  do  zat. 
See !  Put  your  hand  on  my  leg.  Now  my  back, —  my 
arm.  What  you  think,  eh?  " 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  201 

Ruth,  in  some  embarrassment,  had  shyly  obeyed  her. 
The  dancer's  thigh  was  like  a  column  of  warm  iron; 
her  waist,  free  as  ever  from  stays,  was  firm  and  some 
how  suggestive  of  actual  resilience;  her  shoulders  and 
back  possessed  the  hard,  rippling  muscles  of  a  well- 
developed  boy;  her  shapely  forearm  was  as  hard  as 
steel.  Ruth  marvelled. 

"  How  strong  you  are !  "  she  cried ;  "  and  yet  you  are 
slight.  You  are  not  as  big  as  I  am,  but  oh,  how  much 
stronger  you  are !  " 

"  I  have  a  perfect  figure,"  said  Olga  calmly.  "  It 
is  worth  preserving.  No  one  admires  my  body  so  much 
as  I  do  myself.  I  must  not  get  fat.  When  you  are  a 
fat  old  woman,  I  shall  still  be  as  I  am  now.  You  will 
diet,  and  pray,  and  rave, —  because  you  are  growing 
old, —  and  I  shall  do  none  of  these  things.  I  eat  like 
a  pig,  I  never  pray,  and  I  do  not  believe  in  growing 
old.  But  you  do  not  come  to  see  me  about  myself, 
Miss  Clinton.  You  find  me  sitting  idly  with  my  legs 
crossed,  and  you  are  surprise.  I  work  as  I  dance, — 
very,  oh,  so  very  hard  while  I  am  at  ze  task, —  but  with 
frequent  periods  of  rest.  So  I  do  not  wear  out  myself 
too  soon.  It  is  the  only  way.  Work  for  an  hour, 
rest  for  ten  minutes, —  relax  and  forget, —  and  you 
will  see  how  well  it  goes.  Why  do  you  come?  Is  it 
to  talk  about  the  baby?  " 

"  Yes,  it  is,  Madame  Obosky.  I  have  come  to  ask 
you  to  use  your  influence  with  Mr.  Percival.  You  — " 

"  But  I  have  no  influence  with  Mr.  Percivail,"  inter 
rupted  the  other,  staring. 

Ruth  flushed.     "  You  are  his  friend.     You  — " 

"  Ah,  yes, —  but  nothing  more  than  zat.  You  too 
are  his  friend,  Miss  Clinton." 

"  I  see  little  or  nothing  of  Mr.  Percival,"  said  Ruth 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

stiffly.     "  We   are*  not   friends, —  not   really   friends." 

"  But  you  admire  him,  eh?  Quite  as  much  as  I  ad 
mire  him, —  and  as  every  one  else  does." 

"  There  are  certain  things  about  him  that  I  admire, 
of  course." 

"  You  admire  him  for  the  same  reason  that  I  admire 
him.  Because  he  has  a  most  charming  and  agreeable 
way  of  telling  me  to  go  to  the  devil.  Is  that  not  so  ?  " 

"Madame  Obosky!" 

"  It  comes  to  the  same  thing.  If  you  would  like  me 
to  put  it  in  another  form,  he  has  a  very  courteous  way 
of  resisting.  He  is  most  aggravating,  Miss  Clinton. 
He  is  most  disappointing.  He  should  be  like  soft  clay 
in  our  hands,  and  he  isn't.  Is  that  not  so?  " 

"  Is  it  not  possible,  Madame  Obosky,  that  we, —  you 
and  I, —  may  have  an  entirely  different  viewpoint  so 
far  as  Mr.  Percival  is  concerned?  Or  any  other  man, 
for  that  matter?  "  Ruth  spoke  coldly,  almost  insult 
ingly. 

"  I  dare  say,"  agreed  Olga,  composedly,  not  in  the 
least  offended  by  the  implication.  "  You  want  to 
marry  him.  I  do  not." 

"  How  dare  you  say  that?  I  do  not  want  to  marry 
that  man.  I  do  not  want  to  marry  him,  I  say." 

"  How  interesting.  You  surprise  me,  Miss  Clinton. 
It  appears,  then,  that  our  viewpoint  is  in  nowise  differ 
ent,  after  all." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that  ?  " 

"  I  leave  it  to  your  imagination, —  and  to  reflection. 
Listen !  We  may  as  well  be  friends.  You  do  not  wish 
to  admit  it,  even  to  yourself,  but  you  are  in  love  with 
him.  So  am  I.  The  difference  between  us  is  that  I 
realize  I  can  get  along  without  him,  and  still  be  happy. 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  203 

I  am  not  jealous,  my  dear.  If  I  were,  I  should  hate 
you, —  and  I  do  not.  He  is  in  love  with  you.  You 
know  it  perfectly  well,  because  you  are  not  a  fool.  He 
is  not  in  love  with  me.  No  more  am  I  a  fool.  He  — " 

"  I  am  not  in  love  with  him !  " 

"  So  be  it,"  said  Olga  shortly.  "  Have  your  own 
way  about  it.  It  is  not  my  affair.  You  have  come  to 
me,  however,  because  you  know  he  loves  you  and  you 
know  you  do  not  love  him.  Why,  therefore,  are  you 
afraid  of  me  ?  " 

"  It  is  useless  to  continue  this  — " 

"  Oh,  I  see !  You  do  not  wish  my  girls  to  hear  our 
conversation."  Without  more  ado,  she  ordered  the 
three  girls  out  of  the  hut.  "  Go  out  and  play,"  she 
commanded.  Then,  as  the  girls  departed  in  haste,  she 
turned  to  Ruth.  "  I  am  very  thoughtless.  You  are 
not  in  the  habit  of  discussing  your  love  affairs  quite  so 
generously  as  I.  Poof !  They  do  not  care,  those  girls. 
Love  affairs  mean  nothing  to  my  girls." 

"  I  have  no  love  affair  to  discuss,  Madame  Obosky. 
You  need  not  have  sent  them  away.  Good-bye. 
There  is  nothing  more  to  be  said — " 

"  Do  not  go  away, —  please.  You  do  not  know 
whether  to  like  me  or  not.  You  do  not  understand  me. 
You  have  never  encountered  any  woman  as  honest  as 
I  am,  zat  is  the  trouble.  Sit  down,  please.  Let  us 
talk.  We  may  be  here  together  on  this  island  all  the 
rest  of  our  lives,  Miss  Clinton.  It  would  not  be  right 
for  us  to  hate  each  other.  When  you  are  married  to 
Mr.  Percivail,  you  will  have  nothing  to  fear  from  me. 
I  give  you  my  solemn  oath  on  zat,  Miss  Clinton.  Our 
little  world  here  is  too  small.  If  we  were  out  in  the 
great  big  world, —  well,  it  might  be  different  then. 


204  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

But,  how,  I  ask  you,  is  it  possible  for  me  to  run  away 
with  your  husband  when  there  is  no  place  to  run  away 
to?" 

She  spoke  so  quaintly  that  Ruth  smiled  in  spite  of 
herself. 

"  You  are  a  most  extraordinary  person,  Madame 
Obosky.  I  —  I  can't  dislike  you.  No,  thank  you,  I 
sha'n't  sit  down.  I  came  to  see  you  about  the  naming 
of  the  baby.  I  suppose  you  know  that  we  women  have 
decided  to  oppose  the — " 

"  Yes,  yes, —  I  know,"  interrupted  the  other.  "  But 
why  should  we  oppose?  It  is  a  very  small  matter." 

"  Do  you  really  believe  those  men  had  —  or  have  — 
the  right  to  give  a  name  to  Betty  Cruise's  baby?  I 
don't  believe  it,  Madame  Obosky." 

"  In  the  first  place,  can  you  blame  Mr.  Percivail  for 
taking  the  matter  out  of  the  mother's  hands?  Moth 
ers  are  very,  oh,  so  very  stupid  sometime,  you  know. 
For  example,  my  dear  Miss  Clinton,  you  have  but  to 
see  what  Mr.  Percivail's  mother  did  to  him  when  he 
was  an  infant.  She  called  him  Algernon  Adonis, — 
and  why?  Because  she  thought  he  was  the  most  won 
derful  child  in  all  the  world, —  and  because  she  was 
silly.  I  can  almost  hear  her  arguing  now  with  the 
father,  poor  man.  One  day  I  asked  Algernon  Adonis 
what  name  his  father  called  him  by, —  I  was  so  sure 
he  would  not  call  him  Algernon.  He  said  that  up  to 
the  day  his  father  died  he  called  him  Bud.  That's  a 
boy's  name,  you  see.  I  am  in  favour  of  children  being 
named  by  outsiders,  disinterested  outsiders, —  a  com 
mittee  or  something, —  men  preferably.  I  think  this 
child  should  be  called  Doraine.  Betty  Cruise  she  do 
not  care  what  she  call  it  now  that  it  is  not  possible  to 
call  it  Jimmy  Percivail  or  Percivail  Jimmy.  Has  it 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  205 

occur  to  you  that  if  it  had  been  a  boy,  all  these  men 
would  have  insisted  on  Jimmy,  without  the  Percivail?  " 

"  I  like  the  name  Doraine, —  we  all  do.  What  we 
resent  is  Mr.  PercivaPs  presumption  in  — " 

"  Let  me  tell  you  one  more  thing.  Do  not  permit 
Mr.  Percivail  to  address  your  indignation  meeting  to 
night,  for  if  you  do,  and  he  smiles  zat  nice,  good- 
humoured  smile  and  tells  the  ladies  zat  he  is  sorry  to 
have  displease  them,  and  zat  he  is  to  blame  entirely  for 
the  blunder, —  poof !  Zat  will  be  the  end !  " 

"  I  am  not  so  sure  of  that,"  said  Ruth.  "  There  are 
some  very  determined  women  among  us,  Madame  Obo- 
sky."  A  faint  line  appeared  between  her  eyes,  how 
ever, —  a  line  acknowledging  doubt  and  uncertainty. 
"  And  you  will  not  join  us  in  the  protest?  " 

"  No,"  said  Olga,  shaking  her  head.  "  I  am  content 
to  let  the  men  have  their  way  in  small  things,  Miss 
Clinton.  It  makes  zem  —  them  so  much  easier  to  man 
age  when  it  comes  to  the  big  things.  I  speak  from 
experience.  Once  let  a  man  think  he  is  monarch  of  all 
he  surveys  and  he  becomes  the  most  humble  of  subjects. 
As  I  have  said  before,  we  may  all  be  here  for  a  long, 
long  time.  No  one  can  tell.  So,  I  say,  we  must  pat 
our  men  on  the  back  and  tell  zem  what  great,,  wise, 
strong  fellows  they  are, —  and  how  good  and  gallant 
too.  Then  they  will  fight  for  us  like  the  lion,  and  zey 
—  they  will  work  for  us  like  the  ass  and  the  oxen,  be 
cause  man  he  enjoys  to  be  applauded  greatly.  A  man 
likes  to  have  his  hair  rubbed  gently  with  the  finger  tips. 
He  will  smile  and  close  his  eyes  and  if  he  knew  how  he 
would  purr  like  the  cat.  But,  my  dear,  he  do  not  like 
to  have  his  hair  pulled.  Zat  is  something  for  you  to 
remember, —  you  and  all  your  determined  women,  as 
you  call  them." 


206  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

"  Of  course  you  understand,  Madame  Obosky,  I  — 
and  the  other  women, —  are  thinking  only  of  Betty 
Cruise  in  this  matter." 

"  From  what  I  have  been  told,  all  these  men  out  here 
stayed  awake  half  the  night  thinking  about  her,  Miss 
Clinton.  They  behave  like  so  many  distracted  fathers 
waiting  for  news  from  the  bed-chamber.  Bless  their 
hearts,  you  might  think  from  their  actions  that  the 
whole  two  —  three  hundred  of  them  consider  them 
selves  the  consolidated  father  of  zat  single  infant." 

"  I  must  be  getting  back  to  my  work,"  said  Ruth 
abruptly.  Her  eyes  were  shining,  her  voice  was  soft 
and  strangely  thick.  "  But,"  she  went  on  bravely, 
after  clearing  her  throat,  "  we  intend  to  fight  it  out 
with  them,  just  the  same,  Madame  Obosky." 

Olga  went  to  the  door  with  her. 

"  You  mean,  you  intend  to  fight  it  out  with  Mr.  Per- 
civail, —  you  yourself,  eh  ?  " 

"  It  is  not  a  personal  matter  with  me,  let  me  remind 
you  once  more.  He  is  their  leader.  He  dominates 
them.  He  is  the  force  that  holds  them  together. 
That's  all." 

"And  you  would  render  that  force  impotent,  eh? 
I  see.  How  wise  you  women  are !  " 

Ruth  stopped  short,  struck  by  the  remark.  "  Say 
that  again,  please." 

Olga  repeated  the  words  slowly,  significantly,  and 
added :  "  They  might  have  a  worse  leader,  Miss  Clin 
ton." 

At  another  time,  Ruth  Clinton  would  have  been 
deeply  impressed  by  the  underlying  significance  of  the 
Russian's  words.  But  she  was  at  the  mercy  of  a  stub 
born,  rebellious  pride.  She  chose  to  ignore  the  warn 
ing  that  lay  in  Obosky's  remark.  She  felt  herself 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  207 

beaten,  and  she  was  defiant.  It  was  too  late  to  hark 
now  to  the  mild,  temperate  voice  of  reason. 

Something  rankled  deep  down  in  her  soul,  something 
she  was  ashamed  to  acknowledge  even  to  herself.  It 
was  the  disagreeable  conviction  that  Percival  ascribed 
her  activities  to  nothing  more  stable  than  feminine  per 
versity, —  in  fact,  she  had  the  uncomfortable  feeling 
that  he  even  went  so  far  as  to  attribute  them  to  spite- 
fulness.  Something  in  his  voice  and  manner,  as  he  left 
her  that  morning,  suggested  the  kindly  chiding  of  a 
wilful  child.  Well,  he  should  see! 

"  I  don't  care  what  it  all  comes  to,  Madame  Obo- 
sky,"  she  said,  a  red  spot  in  each  cheek.  "  He  shall 
not  name  that  baby." 

The  Russian  smiled.  "  Forgive  me  for  saying  that 
you  will  not  feel  so  bitterly  toward  him  when  the  time 
comes  for  him  to  name  your  baby." 

Ruth's  lips  fell  apart.  She  stared  for  a  moment  in 
sheer  astonishment.  Then  she  paled  with  anger. 
Drawing  herself  to  her  full  height,  she  asked: 

"  Are  you  deliberately  trying  to  make  me  despise 
you?" 

"  By  no  means,"  replied  the  other,  quite  cheerfully. 
"  I  am  merely  giving  you  something  to  think  about, 
zat  is  all." 

"  Rubbish !  "  was  all  that  Ruth  flung  over  her  shoul 
der  as  she  walked  away. 


CHAPTER  V 

IT  was  the  noon  hour.     Scores  of  men  were  resting 
in  the  shade  of  the  huts  as  she  strode  briskly  past. 
They  all  smiled  cheerily,  but  there   ,        good  hu 
moured  mockery  in  their  smiles.     Here  and  tnere  were 
groups  of  women  talking  earnestly,  excitedly. 

Abel  Landover  was  leaning  in  his  doorway,  watching 
her  approach.  His  eyes  gleamed.  She  was  very  beau 
tiful,  she  was  very  desirable.  She  had  been  in  his  mind 
for  months, —  this  fine,  strong,  thoroughbred  daughter 
of  a  thoroughbred  gentleman.  His  sleeves  were  rolled 
up,  his  throat  was  bare;  his  strong,  deeply  lined  face 
was  as  brown  as  a  berry;  if  anything,  his  cold  grey 
eyes  were  harder  and  more  penetrating  than  in  the 
days  when  they  looked  out  from  a  whiter  countenance. 
He  was  a  strong,  dominant  figure  despite  the  estate  to 
which  he  had  fallen, — '&  silent,  sinister  figure  that 
might  well  have  been  described  as  "  The  Thinker." 
For  he  was  always  thinking. 

"  I  understand  you  tackled  the  '  boss  '  this  morning, 
Ruth,"  he  said  as  she  came  up. 

"  I  daresay  the  news  is  all  over  the  island  by  this 
time,"  she  replied,  still  angry. 

"  Was  it  worth  while?  "  he  inquired,  a  trace  of  deri 
sion  in  his  voice. 

She  was  on  the  point  of  replying  rather  emphatically 
in  the  negative,  when  suddenly  she  recalled  the  look  in 
Percival's  eyes  and  the  first  words  he  spoke  to  her. 
She  caught  her  breath.  Her  eyes  sparkled,  her  lips 
parted  in  a  rosy  smile. 

208 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  209 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Landover,  it  was  worth  while,"  she  said, 
and  went  on,  leaving  him  to  reflections  that  were  as 
perplexing  as  they  were  unanticipated. 

She  experienced  a  short  spell  of  triumph.  After  all 
Percival  was  in  love  with  her.  She  did  not  need  Olga 
Obosky  to  tell  her  that.  She  could  see,  she  could  feel 
for  herself.  A  certain  glee  possessed  her, —  indeed,  as 
she  afterwards  succeeded  in  analysing  the  sensation,  it 
bordered  decidedly  on  malice.  She  had  it  in  her  power 
to  make  him  miserable  and  unhappy.  She  would  enjoy 
seeing  him  unhappy ! 

The  meanness  of  the  woman  who  longs  to  injure  the 
man  who  loves  her,  whether  loved  or  unloved,  revealed 
itself  for  the  moment  in  this  fair-minded,  generous 
girl.  (It  is  a  common  trait,  admitted  by  many  fair- 
minded  and  generous  women!)  But  even  as  she  cod 
dled  and  encouraged  the  little  sprout  of  vengeance,  the 
chill  of  common-sense  rushed  up  and  blighted  it. 

She  had  a  sickening  impression  that  Percival  would 
fail  to  play  the  part  according  to  her  conception.  In 
fact,  he  was  quite  capable  of  not  playing  it  at  all.  He 
would  pursue  the  even  tenor  of  his  way  —  (she  actually 
made  use  of  the  time-honoured  phrase  in  her  reflec 
tions), —  and  she  would  get  small  satisfaction  out  of 
that. 

Moreover,  there  was  Olga  Obosky  to  be  reckoned 
with.  She  was  conscious  of  a  hot,  swiftly  passing  sense 
of  suffocation  as  the  thought  of  Olga  rushed  unbidden 
into  her  brain, —  for  an  instant  only, —  and  then  came 
the  reaction:  a  queer  chill  that  raced  over  her  body 
from  head  to  foot.  What  part  would  Olga  Obosky 
play  in  the  game? 

The  women  congregated  on  the  forward  deck  of  the 
Doraine  after  supper  that  night.  The  evening  repast 


210  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

was  no  longer  dignified  by  the  word  dinner.  The  sky 
was  inky  black ;  not  a  star  flickered  in  the  vault  above. 
There  were  low,  far  off  mutterings  of  thunder.  The 
rail  lanterns, —  few  and  far  between, —  threw  their 
pallid  beams  down  into  the  rippling  basin  in  a  sickly 
effort  to  penetrate  the  gloom. 

Captain  Trigger  and  Mr.  Mott,  smoking  their  pipes 
on  the  makeshift  bridge,  studied  the  throng  of  women 
in  dour  silence. 

"  I  understand  the  farmers  are  praying  for  rain," 
remarked  Mr.  Mott,  sniffing  the  air  with  considerable 
satisfaction. 

"  It  would  do  no  end  of  good,"  said  Captain  Trigger, 
without  taking  his  eyes  from  the  chattering  mass  be 
low. 

Mr.  Codge,  the  purser,  joined  them. 

"What  are  they  waiting  for?"  he  asked.  "Why 
don't  they  call  the  meeting  to  order?  " 

"  They  did  that  half  an  hour  ago,"  said  Mr.  Mott. 
"  Good  Lord,  man,  can't  you  hear  them  talking?  Have 
you  no  ears  at  all?  " 

"  But  they're  all  talking  at  once." 

"  And  why  shouldn't  they  ?  "  demanded  the  First  Offi 
cer.  "  It's  their  meeting,  isn't  it?  " 

"  I  met  Miss  Clinton  as  I  was  coming  up.  She  was 
going  to  her  room.  I  asked  her  how  the  meeting  was 
getting  along.  I  don't  believe  she  understood  me,  be 
cause  all  she  said  was  '  good-night.' ' 

"  I  guess  she  understood  you,  all  right,"  said  Mr. 
Mott,  again  sniffing  the  air.  "  Seems  to  me  it's  get 
ting  a  little  nearer,  Captain  Trigger.  There's  a  little 
breeze  coming  up,  too." 

"  A  good  thunder-storm, — "  began  the  Captain, 
musingly,  but  failed  to  complete  the  sentence. 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

"  Would  settle  something  besides  the  dust,"  said  Mr. 
Codge,  after  a  deferential  wait  of  a  few  seconds. 

A  figure  detached  itself  from  the  mass  on  the  weirdly 
lighted  deck  below  and,  approaching  the  perch  of  the 
three  officers,  came  to  a  halt  almost  directly  below  them. 
The  light  of  a  lantern  fell  fairly  on  the  upturned,  smil 
ing  face  of  Olga  Obosky. 

"  What  is  the  hour,  Captain  Trigger?  "  she  inquired. 

"  Almost  nine,  Madame  Obosky. 

"  That  is  nearly  two  bells,  eh,  yes  ?  How  peaceful 
you  look  up  there,  you  three  old  owls." 

"  Come  up ! "  invited  the  Captain  cheerily.  She 
joined  them  a  moment  later.  "  Tell  me,  are  they  leav 
ing  a  shred  of  Percival  and  his  band  of  outlaws  ?  " 

Mr.  Codge  struck  a  match  and  held  it  for  her  to 
light  a  cigarette.  She  inhaled  deeply  and  then  ex 
pelled  the  smoke  in  what  seemed  like  a  prolonged  sigh 
of  satisfaction. 

"  They  are  very  funny,  those  women,"  she  said,  plac 
ing  her  elbows  on  the  rail  and  looking  down  at  the 
crowd.  "Do  you  know  what  the  trouble  is  now?  It 
is  this:  they  cannot  think  of  a  way  to  condemn  the 
action  of  those  men  as  a  body  without  also  including 
Mr.  Percivail  in  the  verdict." 

"How's  that?" 

"  Ninety-five  per  cent,  of  them  want  to  exonerate  Mr. 
Percivail,  but  they  don't  know  how  to  do  it  in  view 
of  the  fact  that  he  is  the  guiltiest  man  of  them  all. 
That's  why  I  say  they  are  very  funny,  those  women. 
They  approve  of  what  he  has  done  in  naming  the  baby, 
because  whatever  Jbe  does  must  be  right,  but  they  are 
almost  unanimous  in  charging  that  all  the  other  men 
out  there  were  wrong.  So  they  are  in  a  great  di 
lemma." 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

Captain  Trigger  laughed.  "  I  see.  What  was  Miss 
Clinton's  position  in  the  debate  ?  " 

"  Oh,  she  was  one  of  those  who  insisted  that  Mr.  Per- 
civail  alone  be  held  accountable,  the  other  men  not  at 
all.  She  v/as  the  chairman,  you  see,  and  they  were 
oblige  to  listen  to  her  at  first.  But  zen,  presently,  one 
of  those  Brazilian  ladies  said  it  was  a  shame  to  put  all 
the  blame  on  dear  Mr.  Percivail,  who  is  such  a  gentle 
man  and  so  splendid  and  all  zat, —  and  zen  —  then  zat 
Mrs.  Block  jump  up  and  say  that  if  it  was  not  for  Mr. 
Percivail  her  husband  would  have  been  killed  last  week 
when  he  fell  off  of  the  landing  into  ten  sousand  feet  of 
water.  And  the  great  Careni-Amori  she  get  up  and 
say  she  would  die  for  Mr.  Percivail  because  he  is  such 
a  gentleman,  and  two  of  those  nurses  at  the  same  time 
cry  out  that  he  ought  to  be  in  the  hospital  because  he 
is  so  worn-out  working  for  other  people  zat  he  can 
hardly  drag  his  poor  feet  around.  And  so  it  goes. 
Miss  Clinton  has  departed,  her  chin  in  the  air.  But 
she  does  not  deceive  me.  She  has  gone  to  her  room  to 
have  a  good  weeping." 

"  Well,  I  wish  they'd  get  together  on  something," 
growled  the  Captain ;  "  so's  we  can  all  go  to  bed  and 
get  a  few  hours'  sleep." 

"  Like  as  not  'they're  keeping  the  baby  awake  with 
all  this  jabbering,"  said  Mr.  Codge.  "  And  that  isn't 
good  for  babies,  you  know.  They've  got  to  have 
plenty  of  sleep.  Specially  little  ones." 

"  Will  you  tell  me,  Captain  Trigger,  why  Mr.  Perci 
vail  did  not  come  aboard  tonight?  "  asked  Olga  sud 
denly.  "  They  were  expecting  him." 

"  And  they  were  disappointed,  eh  ?  " 

"  I  dare  say.  At  any  rate,  a  good  many  of  them 
kept  peering  out  over  the  water  most  of  the  time, 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

and  listening  for  the  sound  of  oars."  She  laughed 
softly. 

The  men  chuckled.  "  Talk  about  strategy,"  said 
Mr.  Mott,  "  he's  a  bird  at  it.  Keeps  'em  guessing,  he 
does.  By  glory,  I  wish  I'd  known  how  to  handle  women 
as  well  as  he  does.  I  might  have  been  married  fifteen 
or  twenty  times  if  I  could  have  kept  'em  anxious  and 
worried, —  but  I  couldn't.  I  never  did  have  any  sense 
about  women.  That's  why  Fir  a  bachelor  instead  of 
a  grandfather." 

"  He  told  Miss  Clinton  he  was  coming,"  said  Olga, 
harking  back  to  the  unanswered  question. 

"  I  daresay  he  changed  his  mind,"  said  the  Captain, 
rather  evasively. 

"  I  do  not  believe  zat.  There  is  some  other  reason. 
He  is  not  a  woman,  Captain  Trigger." 

"  Well,  to  tell  you  the  truth  —  but  don't  let  it  go 
any  farther,  Madame, —  he  came  aboard  just  before 
supper  to  find  out  how  Mrs.  Cruise  is  getting  along. 
Dr.  Cullen  told  him  exactly  what  all  these  women 
down  there  know, —  that  she's  very  low, —  so  he  went 
ashore.  Said  something  about  not  wanting  to  take 
part  in  any  racket  that  might  disturb  her, —  noisy 
talk,  and  all  that, —  and  left  a  bunch  of  wild  flowers 
for  her  in  case  she  was  better  by  morning." 

There  was  a  slight  noise  behind  them.  Turning,  they 
saw  the  figure  of  a  woman  in  the  shadow  of  the  deck 
house. 

"  Who's  there?  "  demanded  Mr.  Mott. 

Ruth  Clinton  stepped  forward  into  the  light. 

"  Did  he  —  did  he  do  that?  "  she  asked  huskily. 

"  He  did,"  said  the  Captain. 

"And  is  she  so  very  ill?  I  did  not  know,  Capfain 
Trigger." 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

She's  likely  to  die,  Miss  Clinton, —  poor  little 
an." 

Ruth  was  silent  for  a  moment.  Then :  "  Do  you 
think  she  —  she  can  hear  all  that  hubbub  down  there?  " 

"  I  am  sure  she  cannot.  But  Percival  was  afraid 
she  could,  so  he  —  well,  he  thought  it  best  not  to  make 
it  any  worse  by  adding  his  groans  of  agony  when  you 
women  tore  him  limb  from  limb  out  here  on  deck. 
That's  the  way  he  put  it,  so  don't  look  at  me  like 
that." 

Ruth  suddenly  hung  her  head  and  walked  away.  As 
she  disappeared  down  the  steps,  Mr.  Codge  remarked, 
sotto  voce: 

"  She  isn't  as  rabid  as  she  was,  is  she?  " 

"  She's  got  it  in  for  Percival  ever  since  he  took  that 
fall  out  of  Landover,"  said  Mr.  Mott. 

"Think  she's  —  er  —  keen  on  Landover?  He's  a 
good  bit  older  than  she  is, —  twenty  years  or  so,  I 
should  say." 

"  Don't  ask  me,  Codge.  As  I  was  saying  awhile 
ago,  I  don't  know  anything  whatsoever  about  women. 
They  know  all  about  me,  but,  gosh,  I'm  worse  than  a 
baby  goat  where  they're  concerned.  There's  no  law 
against  her  being  in  love  with  Landover,  and  there's 
no  law  against  him  marrying  a  woman  fifty  years 
younger'n  himself  if  he  feels  like  it.  Now  you  take 
that  good  looking  Russian  over  there  talking  to  the 
Captain.  Who  knows  what's  in  her  mind?  Nobody, 
sir, —  nobody.  All  I  know  is  that  Landover  tried 
to—" 

"  Sh !  They've  got  ears  like  cats,"  cautioned  Mr. 
Codge. 

" —  And  she  put  him  in  his  place  so  quick  it  made 
his  head  swim.  That's  why  he's  got  it  in  for  her  so 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

hard.  He  says  she's  not  fit  for  decent  women  to  asso 
ciate  with.  On  the  other  hand,  if  she  had  been  willing 
to  flirt  a  little  with  him,  and  so  on,  he  would  have  said 
all  the  other  women  were  cats  if  they  refused  to  take  up 
with  her.  That's  a  man  all  over  for  you,  Codge.  I 
hope  Miss  Clinton  ain't  considering  getting  married 
to  that  man.  Pie's  one  of  these  here  what-do-vou-call- 
'ems?  Er— " 

"  Sybarites?  "  said  Codge,  who  had  picked  up  a  good 
deal  from  conversations  with  Peter  Snipe. 

"That  ain't  the  word,"  said  Mr.  Mott.  "Now, 
I'll  lay  awake  all  night  trying  to  think  of  that  word. 
Damn  the  luck!" 

He  fell  into  a  profound  state  of  mental  concentra 
tion,  from  which  he  was  aroused  a  few  minutes  later  by 
the  swift  and  almost  unheralded  shower  that  rushed 
up  ahead  of  the  thunderstorm.  The  rumble  of  the 
"  apple  carts  "  in  the  vault  above  had  suddenly  be 
come  ominous,  and  there  were  fitful  flares  of  light  in 
the  blackness. 

The  indignation  meeting  broke  up  in  a  wild  scurry 
of  skirts.  It  is  worthy  of  mention  that  nothing  defi 
nite  had  transpired.  The  speeches  of  the  ardent  suf 
fragettes  from  the  wilds  of  London  were  all  that  the 
most  exacting  could  have  demanded,  for  they  covered 
all  of  the  known  and  a  great  many  of  the  unsuspected 
iniquities  that  the  masculine  flesh  is  heir  to,  but  except 
fcr  an  introductory  sentence  or  two  they  failed  to 
t.uch  upon  the  object  of  the  meeting.  They  all  began 
with  something  like  "  While  I  am  frank  to  admit  that 
Doraine  is  a  very  pretty  name,"  or  "  Notwithstanding 
the  fact  that  Doraine  is  a  lovely  name,"  or  "  If  I  had 
a  child  of  my  own,  I  should  not  in  the  least  object  to 
calling  her  Doraine,"  and  so  on  and  so  forth,  but  they 


216  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

cruelly  abandoned  the  baby  in  the  next  breath,  leaving 
it  to  be  revived  by  the  ensuing  speaker. 

The  rain  came  just  in  time  to  prevent  a  vote  being 
taken  on  a  motion  made  by  Miss  Gladys  Spotts.  She 
moved  that  a  committee  of  three  be  appointed  to  serve 
notice  on  Captain  Trigger,  et  al,  that  it  was  the 
unanimous  sense  of  the  meeting  that  the  women  should 
not  only  have  voice  and  vote  on  all  public  questions, 
but  also  representation  in  the  official  government.  She 
had  learned  that  there  was  talk  of  electing  a  mayor, 
a  town  clerk,  a  treasurer,  a  sheriff  and  a  board  of 
commissioners,  and  it  ought  to  be  understood  in  ad 
vance  that  — 

The  torrent  came  at  that  instant,  but  it  requires  a 
very  slight  stretching  of  the  imagination  in  order  to  un 
derstand  precisely  what  Miss  Spotts  insisted  ought  to 
be  understood. 

It  rained  very  hard  all  night,  and  thundered,  and 
lightened,  and  blew  great  guns.  Not  one,  but  all  of 
the  women,  tucked  away  in  their  bunhs,  wondered  how 
those  poor  men  were  faring  out  there  in  that  black  and 
lonely  camp! 

The  next  morning  it  was  still  raining.  (In  fact,  it 
rained  steadily  for  three  days  and  nights.)  Betty 
Cruise  died  shortly  after  daybreak,  and  with  her  death 
ended  the  controversy  over  the  naming  of  her  babe. 

She  was  the  first  to  be  laid  to  rest  in  the  burying- 
ground  on  Cape  Sunrise.  Services  were  conducted  on 
the  Doraine  by  the  Reverend  Mr.  Mackenzie,  assiste  l 
by  Father  Francisco.  All  work  was  suspended  on  the 
morning  of  the  funeral.  Shortly  before  noon  the  en 
tire  company  walked,  in  a  long,  straggling  procession, 
from  the  landing  to  the  spot  three  miles  distant  where 
the  lonely  grave  awaited  its  occupant.  Careni-Amori 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  217 

sang  "  Lead,  Kindly  Light "  and  "  Nearer,  my  God, 
to  Thee,"  at  the  graveside.  There  were  tears  in  a 
thousand  eyes,  and  every  voice  was  husky.  To  most 
of  these  people,  Betty  Cruise  meant  nothing,  but  she 
was  to  lie  out  there  alone  on  the  wind-swept  point, — 
and  they  were  deeply  moved.  They  all  went  back  to 
work  after  the  midday  meal,  a  strangely  silent,  thought 
ful  company, —  even  down  to  the  lowliest  "  Portugee." 

Mr.  Mott,  the  gaunt  old  cynic,  surprised  every  one, 
including  himself,  by  adopting  the  infant!  He  an 
nounced  his  decision  on  the  day  after  the  funeral. 

"  That  baby's  got  to  have  a  father  and  a  grand 
father  and  a  mother,  and  all  that,"  he  declared  to  Cap 
tain  Trigger,  "  and  I'm  going  to  be  all  of  them,  Weath- 
erby.  It  ain't  legal,  I  know,  and  I  reckon  I'll  have  to 
turn  her  over  to  her  proper  relatives  if  they  make  any 
demand, —  provided  we  ever  get  off  this  island, —  but 
while  she's  here  she's  mine,  and  that  settles  it,  and  as 
long  afterward  as  God's  willing.  Chances  are  that  no 
one  at  home  will  want  to  be  bothered  with  an  infant 
that  don't  actually  belong  to  'em,  so  I  shouldn't  won 
der  but  what  I'll  have  her  always.  What  are  you 
laughing  at  ?  " 

"  I  was  just  thinking  that  you  didn't  mention  any 
thing  about  being  a  grandmother  to  her." 

"  Is  that  meant  to  be  sarcastic  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  the  Captain  hastily,  noting  the 
look  in  Mr.  Mott's  eyes.  "  But  for  fear  you  may  think 
it  was,  I  take  it  all  back,  Andrew." 

"  I  laid  awake  all  last  night  worrying  about  how 
lonely  and  useless  and  unoccupied  I'm  going  to  be  if 
we  stick  here  on  this  island  for  any  considerable  length 
of  time,  not  to  say  always,  and  I  made  up  my  mind 
that  if  I  had  that  kid  to  bring  up,  life  would  be  sort 


218  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

of  worth  while.  I'll  probably  live  a  good  deal  longer 
if  I  have  something  to  live  and  work  for.  Ain't  that 
so?" 

"  It  certainly  is,"  agreed  the  Captain.  "  Do  you 
mind  my  asking  how  you're  going  to  feed  it?" 

"I've  got  that  all  attended  to,"  said  Mr.  Mott 
calmly.  "  I've  been  to  see  three  of  these  women  who've 
got  tiny  babies,  and  they've  promised  between  'em  to 
nurse  this  one.  It's  all  fixed,  Captain.  Of  course,  I 
don't  know  how  it's  going  to  work  out,  seeing  as  one 
of  'em  is  Spanish,  one  of  'em  Portugee  and  the  other 
a  full-blooded  Indian, —  but  they're  all  healthy." 

"  It's  very  noble  of  you,  Andrew,"  said  the  Captain, 
laying  his  hand  on  the  First  Officer's  shoulder. 

"  Absolutely  not ,"  snapped  Mr.  Mott.  "  It's  noth 
ing  but  plain,  rotten  selfishness  on  my  part, —  and  I 
don't  give  a  damn  who  knows  it." 


CHAPTER  VI 

INSIDE  of  a  fortnight  after  the  events  just  chron 
icled,  the  women  came  ashore  to  occupy  the  prac 
tically  completed  huts. 

The  Doraine  was  deserted  except  for  Captain  Trig 
ger  and  the  half-dozen  sailors  who  remained  with  him. 
These  sailors  were  ancient  tars  whose  lives  had  been 
spent  at  sea.  They  were  grizzled,  wizened  old  chaps. 
One  of  them,  Joe  Sands,  had  been  an  able  seaman  for 
forty-six  years,  and,  despite  a  perpetual  crick  in  the 
back,  he  insisted  that  he  was  still  an  abler  seaman  than 
ninety-five  per  cent,  of  the  thirty-year-olds  who  fol 
lowed  the  sea  for  a  living.  When  Captain  Trigger  an 
nounced  his  resolve  to  stay  on  board,  where  he  be 
longed,  these  vainglorious  old  seadogs  elected  to  remain 
with  him  to  the  end. 

The  exodus  of  women  was  hastened  somewhat  by  the 
further  listing  of  the  Doraine.  This  was  due  pri 
marily  to  the  removal  of  thousands  of  tons  from  the 
holds,  the  galley  and  the  engine  room.  A  more  sinister 
cause  for  alarm,  however,  was  the  action  of  the  greatly 
lightened  vessel  when  a  tidal  wave  swTept  into  the  basin 
from  the  north.  This  came  at  the  tag  end  of  the 
storm, —  on  the  third  day,  in  fact.  The  Doraine 
seemed  actually  to  be  afloat  for  a  few  seconds,  heaving, 
shuddering,  groaning.  Her  bottom,  after  scraping  and 
grinding  and  giving  up  the  most  unearthly  sounds, 
suddenly  appeared  to  have  freed  itself  completely  from 
the  rocks  on  which  it  was  jammed.  She  seemed  on  the 
point  of  righting  herself.  Then  she  started  to  roll 

219 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

over  on  her  side!  Almost  as  abruptly  she  stopped, 
shivered,  and  then  lay  still  again.  But  she  was  not  in 
her  old  position.  She  was  lying  over  at  least  two  de 
grees  farther  than  before  the  upheaval. 

This  same,  tremendous  tidal  wave,  driven  up  by  the 
strong  wind  that  had  blown  steadily  and  viciously  out 
of  the  north  for  three  days, —  or  perhaps  created  by 
some  vast  internal  convulsion  of  the  earth, —  com 
pletely  inundated  the  low-lying  point  of  land  known  as 
Cape  Sunrise.  At  least  two  miles  of  the  island  was 
temporarily  under  water.  The  high  ridge  lining  the 
shore  alone  prevented  the  sea  from  hurtling  over  into 
the  valley  to  destroy  the  fields  and  gardens  and  even 
to  imperil  the  row  of  huts  along  the  opposite  slope. 

Out  on  Cape  Sunrise  the  waters  swept  over  the  lonely 
grave  of  Betty  Cruise,  but  fell  back  baffled  when  they 
attacked  the  foothills  that  protected  the  homes  of  the 
living.  There  were  superstitious  persons  who  read 
meaning  into  this  startling  visitation  of  the  sea.  They 
made  ugly  romance  of  it.  For,  said  they,  the  lonely 
spirit  of  Jimmy  Cruise  was  trying  to  reach  its  mate, 
—  aye,  striving  to  drag  her  body  down  to  the  bottom 
of  the  sea  to  lie  beside  his  own. 

As  the  days  went  by, —  long  days  that  were  not  gov 
erned  by  any  daylight  saving  law, —  the  settlement 
took  on  the  air  and  life  of  a  sequestered  village.  There 
was  the  general  warehouse  from  which  stores  were  dis 
pensed  sparingly  by  agents  selected  for  such  duties. 
Women  and  men  went  to  market  and  carried  home  the 
provender.  A  fish  market  was  established ;  wood-yards, 
fruit  and  vegetable  booths,  a  dispensary,  and  a  general 
store  where  leather,  cloths  of  various  description,  and 
furs  were  to  be  had  by  requisition. 

In  speaking  of  the  dispensary,  Dr.  Cullen  compla- 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

cently  announced  that  the  supply  of  medicine  was  lim 
ited,  but  that  it  was  nothing  to  worry  about.  He  de 
clared  bluntly, —  and  with  a  twinkle  in  his  eye, —  that 
people  took  too  much  medicine  anyhow. 

"  Medicine  is  a  luxury,"  he  said.  "  The  more  we 
stuff  into  people  the  more  they  want,  and  the  less  they 
take  the  sooner  they  forget  they're  sick.  As  your  doc 
tor,  from  this  time  on,  I  shall  be  delighted  to  set  your 
broken  bones,  sew  up  your  gashes,  and  all  that  sort  of 
thing,  but  it  is  precious  little  medicine  I'll  give  to  you. 
So  don't  get  sick.  The  only  epidemic  we  can  have  here, 
according  to  my  judgment,  is  an  epidemic  of  good 
health.  Am  I  right,  gentlemen?  " 

The  two  young  American  doctors  put  aside  their 
dignity  and  grinned. 

The  wines  and  liquors  from  the  Doraine  were  brought 
ashore  and  locked  away  in  the  cellar  beneath  the  ware 
house.  It  could  be  had  only  on  the  doctor's  orders. 

"  It  won't  hurt  any  of  us  to  drink  nothing  but  water 
for  awhile,"  said  Percival  in  discussing  the  matter; 
"  and  the  chances  are  we'll  be  less  likely  to  hurt  each 
other  if  we  let  the  grog  alone.  There'll  be  no  drink 
ing  on  this  island  if  I  can  help  it.  I  understand  some 
of  you  men  are  planning  to  put  the  pulp  of  the  alga- 
robo  through  a  process  of  fermentation  and  make  chica 
by  the  barreL  Well,  if  I  have  anything  to  say  about 
it,  you'll  do  nothing  of  the  sort.  I  know  that  stuff. 
It's  got  more  murder  in  it  than  anything  I've  ever 
tackled.  We  can  make  flour  out  of  that  pulp,  as  some 
of  you  know,  and  that's  all  we  are  going  to  make  out 
of  it.  Besides,  we  can  be  decent  longer  on  flour  than 
we  can  on  chica. 

"  We'll  find  it  harder  to  do  without  tobacco  than 
without  booze,  and  unless  we  discover  something  to  take 


222  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

its  place  we'll  be  smokeless  in  a  few  weeks.  Professor 
Knapendyke  is  experimenting  with  a  shrub  he  has  dis 
covered  here.  He  says  it  may  be  a  fairly  good  sub 
stitute  if  properly  cured.  But  it  won't  be  tobacco, 
so  I  guess  we  may  as  well  make  up  our  minds  to  swear 
off  smoking  as  well  as  drinking.  I  hope  there's  noth 
ing  in  the  saying  that  the  good  die  young.  Because 
if  there  is,  we're  in  for  an  epidemic  that  will  wipe  out 
four-fifths  of  our  population  in  no  time  at  all.  We're 
going  to  be  so  good  we'll  die  like  flies." 

The  weeks  wore  on  and  the  fields  of  grain  were  har 
vested.  The  yield  was  not  a  heavy  one,  but  it  was 
sufficient  to  justify  the  rather  hap-hazard  experiments. 
The  fifty-odd  acres  of  wheat  produced  a  little  over  a 
thousand  bushels.  The  twenty-acre  oat-field  had  aver 
aged  forty  bushels.  A  few  acres  of  barley,  sown  broad 
cast  in  the  calcareous  loam  along  the  coast,  amounted 
to  nothing. 

Primitive  means  for  grinding  the  grain  had  been  de 
vised.  This  first  crop  was  being  laboriously  crushed 
between  roughly  made  mill-stones,  but  before  another 
harvest  came  along,  a  mill  would  be  in  operation  on  the 
banks  of  Leap  Frog  River. 

The  exploration  of  the  island  had  long  since  been 
completed.  In  certain  parts  of  the  dense  forest  cover 
ing  the  western  section  there  were  magnificent  speci 
mens  of  the  Norfolk  Island  pine.  Fruits  of  the  citrous 
family  were  found  in  abundance;  wild  cherries,  wild 
grapes,  figs,  and  an  apple  of  amazing  proportions  and 
exceeding  sweetness.  Pigeons  in  great  numbers  were 
found,  a  fact  that  puzzled  Professor  Knapendyke  not 
a  little. 

He  finally  arrived  at  an  astonishing  conclusion.  He 
connected  the  presence  of  these  birds  with  the  remark- 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

able  exodus  of  wild  pigeons  from  their  haunts  in  the 
United  States  in  the  eighties.  Millions  of  pigeons  at 
that  time  took  their  annual  flight  southward  from 
Michigan,  Indiana  and  other  states  in  that  region,  and 
were  never  seen  again.  What  became  of  this  prodigious 
cloud  of  birds  still  remains  a  mystery.  Knapendyke 
now  advanced  the  theory  that  in  skirting  the  Gulf 
of  Mexico  on  their  way  to  the  winter  roosts  in  Central 
America  they  were  caught  by  a  hurricane  and  blown 
out  to  sea.  By  various  stages  the  bewildered  survivors 
of  the  gale  made  their  way  down  the  east  coast  of  South 
America,  only  to  be  caught  up  again  by  another  storm 
that  carried  them  out  into  the  Atlantic.  A  few  reached 
this  island,  hundreds  of  miles  from  the  mainland,  and 
here  they  remained  to  propagate.  At  any  rate,  the 
naturalist  was  preparing  to  put  his  impressions  and 
deductions  into  the  form  of  a  paper  which  he  intended 
to  submit  to  the  National  Geographic  Magazine  as 
soon  as  he  returned  to  the  United  States. 

The  more  practical  Mr.  Fitts  decided  to  start  a 
squab  farm! 

A  few  of  the  giant  iguanas  were  seen,  and  many 
smaller  ones.  The  meat  of  the  iguana  is  a  great  deli 
cacy.  There  were  no  beasts  of  prey,  no  herbaceous 
animals. 

Lookouts  on  Top  o'  the  Morning  Peak  reported  the 
presence  of  monstrous  birds  at  rare  intervals.  Where 
they  came  from  and  whither  they  went  no  one  could 
tell.  There  were  unscalable  cliffs  and  crags  at  the 
western  end  of  the  island,  and  it  is  possible  that  they 
had  their  nests  among  them. 

Lieutenant  Platt  described  the  first  of  these  huge 
birds  as  being  at  least  thirty  feet  from  tip  to  tip.  It 
flew  low  above  the  top  of  Split  Mountain  and  disap- 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

peared  beyond  the  hills  to  the  west.  When  first  de 
scried  by  one  of  the  lookouts,  this  bird  was  far  out  over 
the  ocean,  approaching  the  island  from  the  east.  As 
it  soared  over  the  heads  of  the  men,  several  hundred 
feet  above  them,  its  wings  full  spread,  it  was  more  like 
a  small  monoplane  than  a  bird.  In  colour  it  was  a 
dirty  yellow,  with  a  black  belly  and  head.  Before  any 
one  could  procure  a  gun  from  the  hut  it  was  out  of 
range,  flying  at  an  incredible  speed.  A  few  days 
later  another  was  seen,  coming  from  the  same  direction. 
It  was  flying  much  higher,  and  a  few  futile  shots  were 
fired  at  it.  Then,  after  a  week  or  ten  days  without  a 
single  one  of  the  monsters  being  seen,  five  of  them  ap 
peared  in  the  west  and  flew  eastward  over  the  island 
and  out  to  sea. 

"  What  was  the  name  of  that  passenger-carrying 
bird  they  were  always  talking  about  in  the  6  Arabian 
Nights  '?  "  inquired  Platt. 

"  You  mean  the  roc,"  replied  Knapendyke.  "  If  it 
ever  really  existed  outside  of  the  fairy  tales,  it  is  now 
extinct.  The  nearest  thing  to  it  in  size  is  the  condor, 
I  suppose." 

"  I've  seen  some  whopping  big  condors  up  in  the 
Andes,"  said  Percival,  "  but  twelve  feet  from  tip  to 
tip  was  what  the  natives  called  a  full-grown  specimen. 
What  do  you  make  of  these  birds,  Flattner?  " 

"  After  seeing  an  iguana  eighteen  feet  long,  I'm 
ready  to  believe  anything,  A.  A.  A  protracted  and 
an  enforced  spell  of  sobriety  is  the  only  thing  that 
keeps  me  from  diagnosing  my  own  case  as  delirium 
tremens.  There's  one  thing  sure.  Birds  as  big  as 
these,  and  iguanas  as  huge  as  the  three  we've  seen, — 
to  say  nothing  of  the  enormous  flying  fish  Morris  Shine 
claims  to  have  seen, —  take  me  back  to  the  Dark  Ages. 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

I  daresay  we're  seeing  the  tag  end  of  the  giants.  God 
knows  how  old  these  birds  and  reptiles  are, —  hundreds 
of  years,  at  least.  I'd  give  almost  anything  to  get  one 
of  those  birds  and  stuff  him.  There  was  once  a  flying 
animal  known  as  the  pteranodon.  It  has  been  extinct 
for  millions  of  years.  Belonged  to  the  class  called 
pterodactyls.  Who  knows?  If  you  fellows  could 
shoot  for  sour  apples,  I'd  have  one  of  'em." 

Christmas  and  New  Year's  day,  long  since  past,  had 
been  celebrated  in  a  mild,  half-hearted  way  on  board 
the  Doraine.  Easter  was  drawing  near,  and  Ruth 
Clinton  took  upon  herself  the  task  of  arranging  special 
services  for  the  children.  She  was  going  ahead  with 
her  plans  when  her  aunt,  with  some  bitterness,  advised 
her  to  consult  the  "  King  of  Babylon  " —  (a  title  sur 
reptitiously  accorded  Percival  by  the  unforgiving 
lady )  —  before  committing  herself  too  deeply  to  the 
enterprise. 

"  It  would  be  just  like  him  to  cut  Easter  out  of  the 
calendar  altogether,"  said  she. 

"  He  cannot  possibly  have  any  objection  to  an  Eas 
ter  service,"  protested  Ruth,  her  brow  puckering. 

"  There's  no  telling  what  he  will  object  to,"  said 
Mrs.  Spofford. 

u  He  is  really  quite  tenderhearted,  and  awfully  fond 
of  children,  you  know.  I  am  sure  he  will  be  very  much 
pleased  with  the —  Besides,"  she  broke  off  to  say 
with  considerable  heat,  "  Mr.  Percival  is  not  as  high 
and  mighty  as  he  imagines  himself  to  be.  Other  peo 
ple  have  something  to  say  about  the  management  of 
this  camp.  You  forget, —  and  so  does  he  perhaps, — 
that  we  have  a  council  of  ten.  I  rather  fancy  — " 

"  Pooh !  "  sniffed  her  aunt.  "  He  is  worse  than  all 
the  Tammany  bosses  put  together.  The  other  men  on 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

the  council  of  ten  eat  out  of  his  hand,  as  Abel  Land- 
over  says.  His  word  is  law, —  or,  I  should  have  said, 
his  smile  is  law.  All  he  has  to  do  is  to  grin  and  the 
argument  is  over.  I've  never  seen  anything  like  the 
way  people  give  in  when  he  smiles.  It  is  disgusting." 

"  Please  don't  forget,  Auntie,  that  he  did  not  smile 
on  Saturday  when  Manuel  Crust  stopped  him  in  front 
of  the  meeting-house  and  said  he  was  going  to  take  Sun 
day  off  from  work  up  in  the  woods.  He  didn't  smile 
then,  did  he?  And  there  were  a  dozen  men  planning 
to  take  the  day  off  with  Manuel  Crust,  too." 

"  I  confess  I  was  frightened,"  admitted  Mrs.  Spof- 
ford,  with  a  slight  shudder.  "  That  Manuel  CrUst  is  a 
—  a  dangerous  man.  He  carries  a  knife.  I  saw  it." 

«  Were  your  sympathies  with  Manuel  Crust  or  Mr. 
Percival?  Answer,  please." 

"  Naturally,  my  dear,  I  —  why,  of  course,  they  were 
with  Percival.  He  was  one  man  against  a  dozen.  Be 
sides,  he  does  represent  law  and  order.  I  have  neve»r 
questioned  that,  have  I?  " 

"  Weren't  you  a  weeny,  teeny  bit  proud  of  him  yes 
terday,  Aunt  Julia?  " 

"  Weren't  you  ?  "  countered  the  other. 

"  I  could  have  hugged  him,"  exclaimed  Ruth,  her 
eyes  sparkling.  "  I  hate  him, —  mind  you, —  but  I 
could  have  hugged  him,  just  the  same." 

Mrs.  Spofford  looked  searchingly  into  the  girl's  clear, 
shining  eyes. 

"  I  wish  I  knew  just  how  much  you  hate  him,  Ruth." 

"  Be  honest,  Auntie.  What  you  mean  is,  how  little 
I  hate  him ;  isn't  that  so  ?  " 

"  I  don't  believe  you  hate  him  at  all." 

"  Well,  the  first  chance  you  get,  ask  him  how  much 
I  hate  him.  He  will  tell  you.  Now  let's  talk  about 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  227 

Easter  Sunday.  I  don't  in  the  least  see  why  I  should 
go  down  on  my  knees  to  Mr.  Percival  in  order  to  — " 

"  Manuel  Crust  went  down  on  his  knees,  didn't  he?  " 

"  Don't  be  silly !  Manuel  Crust  was  leading  a  strike. 
I  am  arranging  a  sacred  entertainment." 

"  Still,  if  I  were  you,  my  dear,  I  would  ask  him  what 
he  thinks  about  it." 

"  All  right,"  cried  Ruth,  "  I'll  ask  him.  And  what's 
more,  I  shall  ask  him  to  sing  in  the  choir.  He  will  love 
it." 

Not  only  did  Percival  promise  to  sing  in  the  choir, 
but  he  eagerly  offered  to  help  her  with  the  decorations. 
But  when  she  announced  that  she  was  going  up  into  the 
hills  in  quest  of  the  little  red  winter  berries  that  grew 
in  profusion,  he  flatly  put  his  foot  down  on  the  project. 

"  I  don't  feel  any  too  sure  of  Manuel  Crust  and  his 
gang,"  said  he.  "  They're  in  an  ugly  mood  and  they 
are  brutes,  Miss  Clinton.  Don't  be  alarmed.  They're 
not  likely  to  molest  you  or  any  one  else,  but  I  don't 
believe  in  taking  chances.  Just  at  present  they're 
pretty  sore  at  me  and  they're  doing  all  they  can  to  stir 
up  discord.  It  will  work  out  all  right  in  the  end,  of 
course.  They  may  be  beasts  but  they're  not  fools." 

"  Is  it  true  that  Manuel  Crust  claims  that  every  man 
should  have  his  woman?  "  she  asked  steadily. 

He  was  surprised  by  the  frank,  unembarrassed  ques 
tion.  "  Crust  is  about  as  vile  as  they  make  them,  Miss 
Clinton.  Most  of  these  fellows  are  decent,  however." 

"  But  you  have  not  answered  my  question." 

"  I  will  answer  it  by  saying  that  if  he  has  any  such 
notion  as  that  in  his  mind  he  will  have  it  taken  out  of 
him  in  short  order  if  he  attempts  to  put  it  into  prac 
tice.  The  women  on  this  island  will  be  protected,  Miss 
Clinton,  if  we  have  to  kill  Manuel  Crust  and  his  fol- 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

lowers.  It  is  true  he  has  been  preaching  that  sort  of 
gospel  among  the  vicious  and  ignorant  Portugees  and 
half-casts,  but  it's  all  talk.  Don't  pay  any  attention 
to  it." 

"  We  can't  help  being  worried.  Suppose  his  follow 
ing  is  much  larger  than  you  think.  They  are  a  rough, 
lawless  crowd,  and  — " 

"  Ninety-five  per  cent,  of  the  men  here  are  decent. 
That's  the  only  comfort  I  can  give  you."  He  smiled 
his  whimsical  smile.  "  I  think  you  will  find  that  you 
will  be  courted  in  the  regular,  old-fashioned  way,  and 
proposed  to  with  as  much  solemnity  and  uncertainty 
as  if  you  were  back  at  home,  and  it  will  be  left  for  you 
to  choose  your  own  husband.  We  have  two  ministers 
of  the  gospel  here,  you  know.  I  predict  some  rather 
violent  courtships,  and  perhaps  a  few  ill-advised  mar 
riages,  but  you  may  rest  assured  that  no  man  is  going 
to  claim  you  until  you  claim  him." 

He  was  looking  straight  into  her  eyes.  She  felt  the 
blood  mounting  to  her  cheek, —  and  was  conscious  of 
a  strange,  delicious  sensation  as  of  peril  stealing  over 
her. 

"  You  are  most  reassuring,"  she  managed  to  say, 
scarcely  above  a  whisper,  and  then  paused  expectant. 

Afterwards  she  was  shamed  by  the  exquisite  pain  of 
anticipation  that  had  coursed  through  her  in  that  mo 
ment  of  waiting.  She  never  could  quite  account  for 
the  temporary  weakness  that  assailed  her  and  left  her 
mute  and  helpless  under  the  spell  of  his  eyes.  She 
only  knew  that  she  waited  expectant, —  for  something 
that  never  came !  What  she  might  have  said  in  re 
sponse,  what  she  might  have  done  if  he  had  uttered 
the  words  she  was  prepared  to  hear,  she  did  not  care 
to  contemplate,  even  in  the  privacy  of  her  own  thoughts. 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

She  only  knew  that  she  was  ashamed  of  the  thrill  that 
went  over  her  and  strangely  bitter  toward  him  for  be 
ing  the  cause  of  it.  She  would  not  admit  to  herself 
that  disappointment  had  anything  to  do  with  it, —  for 
she  found  herself  arguing,  nothing  could  have  been 
more  distressing  than  to  rebuff  him  when  he  seemed 
so  eager  to  help  her  in  her  plans  for  Easter  Sunday. 

The  fact  remains,  however,  that  Percival  held  his 
tongue,  and  she  never  quite  understood  why  he  did. 

The  time  and  the  place  of  this  encounter  invited 
confession.  There  was  a  full  moon  in  the  heavens,  the 
night  was  still,  the  air  crisp  with  the  tang  of  October 
in  the  north, —  and  they  were  alone  in  the  shadow  of 
the  "  tabernacle."  Lights  gleamed  in  the  little  win 
dows  that  stretched  to  the  right  and  left  of  them.  Far 
off  somewhere  in  the  dark,  an  unseen  musician  was 
gently  thrumming  a  fandango  on  his  Spanish  guitar. 
She  had  been  on  her  way  home  from  Careni-Amori's 
cabin,  where  she  had  gained  the  prima-donna's  promise 
to  sing,  when  she  saw  him,  walking  slowly  across  the 
"  Green."  His  hands  were  clasped  behind  his  back,  his 
head  was  bent.  She  experienced  a  sudden  rush  of  pity 
for  him, —  she  knew  not  why,  except  that  he  looked 
lonely  and  forgotten.  It  was  she  who  turned  aside 
from  her  course  and  went  out  across  the  Green  to  join 
him. 

"  You  are  most  reassuring,"  she  had  said.  The 
dusky  light  of  the  moon  fell  full  upon  her  upturned 
face;  her  shadowy,  limpid  eyes  were  looking  straight 
into  his ;  enchantment  charged  the  air  with  its  soft  and 
languorous  breath, —  and  yet  he  looked  away ! 

After  a  moment  he  spoke.  His  voice  was  steady 
and, —  to  her, —  almost  sardonic. 

"  The  day  of  the  cave-man  is  past.     Likewise  the 


230  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

cannibal.  I  think  I  can  promise  that  you  will  neither 
be  beaten  nor  eaten, —  but  you  do  run  a  little  risk  in 
being  abroad  on  such  a  night  as  this, —  and  alone." 

She  stiffened.  "  I  don't  think  there  is  the  slightest 
danger,  Mr.  Percival." 

"  I  wasn't  thinking  of  danger,"  he  said.  "  There  is 
a  lot  of  difference  between  danger  and  consequences. 
You  see,  you  might  have  been  mistaken  in  your  man.  I 
might  have  turned  out  to  be  Manuel  Crust." 

"  I  —  I  —  I  was  sure  it  was  you,"  she  stammered, 
and  wished  she  had  not  said  it.  It  was  a  confession 
that  she  knew  his  figure  so  well  that  she  could  recog 
nize  it  in  the  gloom  of  the  night  and  at  a  distance  that 
should  have  rendered  him  almost  invisible. 

"  Even  so,  I  am  Manuel's  brother  under  the  skin," 
he  said.  "  Like  Judy  O'Grady  and  the  Colonel's  lady, 
you  know.  However,  all's  well  that  ends  well,  so  what's 
the  use  of  magnifying  the  peril  that  stalks  through  the 
land." 

"  You  were  brought  up  on  the  good,  old-fashioned 
novels,  I  see.  That's  the  language  of  heroes, —  and 
heroes  live  only  in  novels,  where  they  are  perfectly  safe 
from  harm,  thanks  to  the  benevolent  author." 

"  You're  right.  I  was  brought  up  among  the  old- 
fashioned  heroes.  I  lived  through  every  adventure  they 
had,  I  longed  for  every  girl  they  loved,  I  envied  every 
thing  they  did,  and  I  dreamed  the  most  beautiful 
dreams  about  prowess  and  virtue  and  love.  I  rather 
fancy  I'm  a  better  man  for  having  been  a  swash 
buckling  boy.  I  acquired  the  generous  habit  of  falling 
in  love  with  every  heroine  I  read  about,  and  in  my 
thoughts  I  performed  even  more  prodigious  deeds  of 
valour  in  her  behalf  than  the  hero  to  whom  she  inevi 
tably  plighted  her  troth  in  the  final  chapter.  In  real 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  231 

life,  however,  I've  never  been  in  a  position  to  do  any 
thing  more  heroic  than  give  up  my  seat  in  trolley- 
cars  to  ladies  of  all  ages, —  By  the  way,  have  you 
never  longed  desperately  to  be  a  heroine?  " 

"  Of  course,  I  have,"  she  cried,  smiling  in  spite  of 
herself.  Her  eyes  were  sparkling  again,  for  the  danger 
was  past.  "  And  I  have  loved  a  hundred  heroes, — 
madly."  She  hesitated  and  then  went  on  impulsively: 
"  We  haven't  been  very  friendly,  Mr.  Percival.  Per 
haps  I  am  to  blame.  In  any  case,  you  have  been  very 
generous  and  forbearing.  That  is  more  than  I  have 
been.  I  never  thought  I  could  bring  myself  to  the 
point  of  saying  this  to  you.  Can't  we  be  friends 
again  ?  " 

He  was  silent  for  a  moment. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  go  back  to  where  we  were  before  — 
Well,  before  we  clashed?" 

"  Yes, —  if  you  will  put  it  in  that  way." 

"  I  can't  go  back  to  that  stage,"  he  said,  shaking 
his  head.  "You  may  have  stood  still,  Miss  Clinton, 
but  I  have  progressed." 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean." 

"  You  will,  after  you  reflect  awhile,"  he  said. 

She  drew  back,  in  a  sudden  panic.  She  spoke  hur 
riedly,  her  composure  wrecked. 

"I  —  at  least,  Mr.  Percival,  I  have  done  my  part. 
If  you  do  not  care  to  be  friends,  I  —  I  have  nothing 
more  to  say.  We  must  go  on  just  as  we  were, —  and 
I  am  sorry.  I  have  done  my  part." 

"  I  do  not  want  to  distress  you,"  he  said  huskily. 
"  If  I  were  to  tell  you  why  it  is  best  for  us  to  go  on 
as  we  are,  you  would  lose  what  little  faith  you  may 
still  have  in  me.  I  have  not  always  been  able  to  con 
ceal  my  feelings.  You  do  not  care  as  I  do, —  and  I 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

have  been  pretty  much  of  a  rotter  in  showing  you  just 
how  I  feel  from  time  to  time, —  an  ordinary  bounder, 
and  God  knows  I  hate  the  word, —  so  there's  nothing 
more  I  can  say  without  distressing  and  offending  you. 
I  want  you  to  feel  perfectly  secure  so  far  as  I  am  con 
cerned.  We  are  out  here  alone  in  the  night.  If  I 
were  to  let  go  of  myself  now  and  say  what  I  want  to 
say  to  you, —  well,  you  would  be  frightened  and  hurt 
and, —  God  knows  I  wouldn't  hurt  you  for  the  world. 
I  hope  you  understand,  Miss  Clinton." 

She  had  had  time  to  fortify  herself. 

"  Yes, —  I  understand,"  she  said,  but  not  without  a 
strange  wonder  filling  her  mind. 

He  was  fair, —  and  yet  he  was  baffling.  She  had  not 
expected  this  rare  trait  in  him.  Men  she  had  known 
were  not  like  this.  The  men  who  loved  her, —  and  they 
had  been  many, —  were  impetuous  and  insistent,  de 
manding  much  and  offering  everything, —  vain-glorious 
warriors  who  counted  confidently  on  easy  conquest. 
She  had  come  in  contact  with  but  one  class  of  men :  the 
spoiled,  cocksure  sons  of  the  rich  who  love  in  haste 
and  have  it  over  with  while  there  is  yet  time  to  love 
again.  She  caught  herself  guiltily  wondering  how 
manj  men  of  her  acquaintance  would  have  allowed  this 
engaging  opportunity  to  pass  without  making  the  most 
of  it !  And  why  should  this  man  be  different  from  the 
others?  She  experienced  a  sharp  feeling  of  irritation, 
and  out  of  that  sprang  the  wilful  desire  to  hurt  him 
because  he  was  different.  So  she  lifted  her  chin,  and 
looking  straight  into  his  eyes,  said :  "  I  understand 
•^.rfectly.  You  prefer  that  I  should  not  put  you  in  the 
class  with  Manuel  Crust*" 

"  I'm  not  quite  certain  that  Manuel's  way  of  handling 
womtv  isn't  the  best  after  all,"  he  said  musingly. 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  233 

"Ride  over  'em  rough-shod,  trample  them  under  foot, 
kick  them  to  one  side  and  then  ask  them  whether  they 
love  you  or  not.  If  they  say  they  don't,  all  you  have 
to  do  is  to  behave  like  a  gentleman  and  leave  them 
alone." 

She  laughed.  "  But  suppose  they  were  to  say  they 
did  love  you, —  what  then?" 

"  That,  I  understand,  is  what  they  generally  do  say, 
—  and  it  causes  a  great  deal  of  trouble  for  the  unfor 
tunate  gentleman." 

"Are  you  never  in  earnest,  Mr.  Percival?  " 

"  I  was  very  much  in  earnest  a  moment  ago.  You 
knew  how  much  in  earnest  I  was  or  you  wouldn't  have 
said  that  nasty  thing  about  Manuel  Crust." 

"  I  am  sorry  I  said  it,"  she  cried.  "  It  was  un 
called  for, —  and  I  was  deliberately  trying  to  be  mean." 

"  I  knew  it,"  he  said  quietly.  "  I  don't  think  any 
the  worse  of  you  for  it.  A  woman  plays  fair  until 
you  get  her  into  a  corner, —  and  then  she  plays  fairer 
than  ever  to  make  up  for  what  she  did  when  cornered. 
Am  I  not  right?" 

She  did  not  reply.  She  was  staring  past  him,  down 
the  line  of  huts.  The  door  of  Olga  Obosky's  cabin  had 
opened  and  closed,  projecting  for  an  instant  an  oblong 
block  of  light  into  the  darkness.  The  figure  of  a 
woman,  emerging  into  the  full  light  of  the  moon,  had 
caught  Ruth's  attention.  Percival  turned  quickly. 
Together  they  watched  the  figure  move  swiftly  across 
the  Green  toward  them.  Suddenly  it  stopped,  and  then, 
after  a  moment,  whirled  and  made  off  down  the  line 
of  cabins,  soon  to  be  swallowed  up  by  the  gloom. 

"Were  you  expecting  some  one?"  inquired  Ruth, 
icily. 

He  was  still  looking  intently  into  the  far-reaching 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

gloom.     Neither  had  spoken  for  many  seconds.     He 
started,  and  looked  searchingly  into  her  eyes. 

"  That  was  Madame  Obosky,"  he  said. 

"  I  know.     I  recognized  her,"  said  she  evenly. 

"  And  you  believe  she  was  coming  out  here  to  meet 
me, —  isn't  that  so?" 

She  drew  herself  up.  "  I  shall  have  to  say  good 
night,  Mr.  Percival.  No !  It  is  not  necessary  for  you 
to  walk  home  with  me." 

He  placed  himself  in  front  of  her.  "  Would  you 
mind  answering  my  question  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  flashed,  "  I  think  she  was  coming  out  here 
to  meet  you.  Permit  me  to  pass,  please." 

He  stood  aside.     "  Good  night,  Miss  Clinton." 

He  watched  her  until  the  door  of  her  cabin  swung 
open, —  and  he  smiled  as  she  stood  revealed  for  an  in 
stant  in  the  square  of  light,  for  she  had  obeyed  the 
impulse  to  glance  over  her  shoulder. 

She  was  angry,  hurt,  disgusted  as  she  slammed  the 
door  behind  her. 

"  Where  have  you  been?  "  cried  out  an  accusing  voice, 
and  Ruth's  gaze  fell  upon  the  figure  in  one  of  the  deck 
chairs  beside  the  fire.  "  I  have  been  waiting  for  you 
for  — " 

"How  long  have  you  been  here?"  cried  the  girl, 
stock-still  and  staring. 

"  If  Mrs.  Spofford  had  not  been  so  entertaining,  I 
should  say  for  hours  and  hours,"  said  Madame  Obosky. 

"  As  a  matter  of  fact,"  said  Mrs.  Spofford  from  her 
side  of  the  fireplace,  "  it  hasn't  been  more  than  an  hour. 
Madame  Obosky  came  soon  after  you  went  out,  dear." 

"  But  —  but  I  saw  you  just  now  coming  out  of  your 
cabin,"  cried  Ruth  blankly.  She  had  a  queer  sensa 
tion  as  of  the  floor  giving  way  beneath  her. 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  235 

"  You  saw  —  Oh,  now  I  understand !  "  cried  the 
Russian,  with  a  laugh.  "  Zose  girls  of  mine !  Zey  — 
they  are  like  so  many  grandmothers.  They  will  not 
go  to  bed  until  zey  know  I  am  safely  tucked  in  myself. 
Alas,  Mrs.  Spofford,  zose  girls  do  not  trust  me,  I  fear. 
If  I  go  out  at  night  alone,  zey  instantly  put  their 
heads  together  and  shake  zem  all  at  the  same  time.  So 
that  is  what  has  happen,  Miss  Clinton.  One  of  them, 
—  Alma,  I  suspect,  because  she  had  a  sister  who, — 
Yes,  it  would  be  Alma,  I  am  sure, —  in  any  case,  one 
of  zem  comes  out  to  get  me,  so  like  a  policeman.  But 
still  I  do  not  understand  something.  I  have  told  them 
I  was  coming  here  to  see  you.  If  it  was  one  of  my 
girls,  why  has  she  not  come  ?  " 

Ruth  had  turned  away,  ostensibly  to  pull  down  the 
little  window  shade  but  really  to  send  a  swift  searching 
glance  out  across  the  Green. 

"  She  went  the  other  way,"  she  replied,  rather 
breathlessly. 

Olga  sprang  to  her  feet.  "  Now,  what  is  zat  little 
fool  up  to  ?  "  she  cried,  angrily.  "  If  I  catch  her  run 
ning  out  to  meet  men  at  zis  hour  of  — " 

Ruth  interrupted  her.  "  She  started  in  this  direc 
tion  but  when  she  saw  us,  she  turned  and  went  the 
other  way.  I  was  talking  to  Mr.  Percival  out  near  the 
meeting-house.  About  the  Easter  services,  Auntie," 
she  made  haste  to  say  as  Mrs.  Spofford  looked  up  in 
surprise. 

Olga  was  looking  at  her  fixedly,  an  odd  expression 
in  her  eyes,  her  lips  slightly  parted. 

"  He  has  promised  to  help  me.  He  is  delighted  to 
sing  in  the  choir.  Madame  Careni-Amori  will  sing  two 
solos.  She  promises  to  make  Joseppi  sing  one  or  two. 


236  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

I  —  I  was  discussing  the  arrangements  with  Mr.  Perci- 
val." 

"  Now  I  understand,"  said  Olga,  gaily,  but  with  the 
odd,  inquiring  look  still  in  her  eyes.  "  Alma  thought 
it  was  I.  I  have  zem  very  well-trained,  those  girls. 
She  sees  me  with  a  man, —  zip !  She  runs  the  other  way 
as  fast  as  she  can !  That  is  the  height  of  propriety, — 
is  it  not,  Mrs.  Spofford?  " 

"  I  do  not  quite  understand  what  you  mean,  Madame 
Obosky." 

"  Why  did  he  say  it  was  you?  "  cried  Ruth,  hot  with 
chagrin. 

Olga  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "  He  is  so  very 
amiable,"  said  she.  "  I  dare  say  he  thought  it  would 
please  you." 

Ruth  bit  her  lip.  There  was  no  mistaking  the  chal 
lenge  in  the  Russian's  remark,  however  careless  it  may; 
have  sounded. 

"  I  came  to  see  you  about  Mr.  Percivail's  birthday," 
said  Olga,  abruptly  changing  the  subject.  "  Some  one 
has  suggested  zat  we  all  join  in  giving  him  a  grand 
great  big  celebration.  Bonfires,  fire-works,  a  banquet 
with  speeches,  and  all  zat  kind  of  thing.  What  do  you 
think,  eh?" 

"  He  wouldn't  like  it  at  all,"  said  Ruth  promptly. 
"  Moreover,  why  should  we  celebrate  his  birthday  ?  He 
doesn't  deserve  it  any  more  than  scores  of  other  — " 

"  Oh,  then  we  must  drop  it  altogether,"  broke  in 
Olga,  rather  plaintively.  "  I  thought  every  one  would 
be  in  favour  of  it.  But,  of  course,  if  there  is  the  slight 
est  opposition  — " 

"  I  do  not  oppose  it,"  said  Ruth  coldly.  "  Pray  do 
not  let  me  upset  your  plans." 

"  It  is  not  my  plan.     Zat  nice,  sarcastic  Mr.  Fitts, 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  237 

and  Mr.  Malone,  and  Captain  Trigger,  they  have  pro 
posed  it,  Miss  Clinton,  not  I.  But  men  never  quite 
get  over  being  boys.  They  do  not  stop  to  question 
whether  a  thing  is  right  or  wrong.  I  dare  say  after 
they  have  thought  a  little  longer  over  it,  zey  will  agree 
with  you  that  it  is  foolish  to  be  so  enthusiastic  about 
this  fellow  Percivail, —  and  the  whole  project  will  dis 
solve  into  thin  air." 

Her  hand  was  on  the  latch.  She  met  Ruth's 
harassed,  unhappy  gaze  with  her  indolent,  almost  in 
solent,  smile.  Suddenly  the  American  girl  snatched  up 
her  jacket  and  the  little  fur  collar  she  had  thrown 
across  a  chair  in  the  corner. 

"  If  you  don't  mind,  I  will  walk  part  of  the  way 
home  with  you,"  she  said. 

Olga  opened  the  door  and  looked  out.  "  Thank  you, 
—  I  am  not  afraid.  Pray  do  not  think  of  it, —  I  can 
not  permit  you  to  come.  It  is  late, —  and  the  moon 
is  under  the  clouds..  Good  night, —  good  night,  Mrs. 
Spofford." 


CHAPTER  VII 

SHE  quickly  closed  the  door  behind  her  and  sped 
off  down  the  line  of  now  lightless  cabins.  A  man 
^  stepped  out  of  the  black  shadow  beyond  the  sec 
ond  cabin  and  stood  in  her  path.  She  did  not  pause, 
but  walked  swiftly,  fearlessly  up  to  him,  her  heart 
quickening  under  the  thrill  of  exultation.  He  was  wait 
ing  for  her !  He  had  been  waiting  for  her  all  the  long 
evening.  The  time  had  come! 

The  night  was  dark  now ;  a  strong  wind  had  sprung 
up  to  drive  the  black  and  storm-laden  clouds  across 
the  moonlit  sky.  She  held  out  her  hands  with  a  little 
moan  of  ecstasy, —  and  then  she  was  in  his  strong, 
crushing  arms,  pressed  fiercely  to  his  breast. 

"  God,  can  I  believe, —  is  it  true  ?  You  have  come, — 
you  have  come  of  your  own  free  will, —  you  are  here 
in  my  arms !  "  His  hot  lips  found  hers  in  a  wild,  pas 
sionate  kiss.  "  Speak  to  me !  Tell  me  it  is  all  real, — 
that  I  am  not  dreaming.  Oh,  Ruth,  Ruth, —  darling !  " 

Her  body  stiffened.  A  convulsive  shudder  raced 
over  her,  and  then,  for  an  instant,  she  was  limp  and 
heavy  in  his  embrace.  Then  suddenly  she  threw  her 
arms  about  his  neck  and  kissed  him  furiously,  savagely, 
again  and  again, —  breaking  away  at  last  with  a  low, 
suffocating  laugh. 

"  Now, —  now, — "  she  cried,  "  now,  what  are  you  go 
ing  to  do  with  me  ?  " 

He  lifted  his  head  with  a  jerk,  peering  into  her  face, 
slow  to  realize  the  incredible  mistake  he  had  made.  He 
was  still  under  the  spell  of  the  riotous  passion  that  her 

238 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  239 

lustful  response  had  aroused.  It  had  rushed  over  him 
like  a  great,  resistless  wave, —  hot,  delicious,  tingling. 
He  had  been  amazed,  bewildered  by  the  unbelievable 
craving, —  furious  and  uncontrolled, —  which  she  re 
vealed  in  her  momentary  surrender  to  the  elemental. 
The  truth  began  to  dawn  upon  him  even  before  she 
spoke.  Could  this  be  Ruth, —  could  this  unbridled, 
voluptuous  wanton  who  clung  to  him  and  smothered 
him  with  kisses  be  the  pure,  high-minded  girl  he  had 
grown  to  love  and  revere?  She  spoke,  and  then  he 
knew  that  the  consuming  fire  in  his  blood  was  unholy, 

—  as  unholy  as  the  spark  that  set  it  ablaze. 

"  Damn  you !  "  he  whispered  hoarsely, —  but  he  did 
not  put  her  away  from  him.  The  lure  of  the  flesh  was 
upon  him.  It  was  stronger  than  his  will,  stronger  than 
his  love. 

For  months  this  woman  had  beguiled  him.  There 
had  been  times  when  he  was  compelled  to  fight  himself, 

—  times  when  he  asked:     "  Why  not?  " 

She  was  alluring,  she  was  frankly  a  sensualist;  but 
she  was  patient,  she  was  crafty.  She  knew  that  he  was 
honourably  in  love  with  another,  but  she  was  not  de 
terred  by  that  nor  by  the  conviction  that  her  conquest, 
if  she  prevailed,  would  be  transitory.  She  had  a  code 
of  her  own.  It  included  an  uncertain  element  of  hon 
our,  fixed  rather  rigidly  upon  what  she  would  have 
called  constancy.  Singleness  of  purpose  was  her  no 
tion  of  morality.  She  would  not  have  believed  herself 
to  be  a  bad  woman  any  more  than  she  would  have 
looked  upon  her  lover  as  a  bad  man.  To  her,  morality 
in  its  accepted  sense  signified  no  more  than  the  sup 
pression  of  human  emotions  and  human  sensations. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  she  considered  herself  a  good 
woman  if  for  no  other  reason  than  that  she  steadfastly 


240  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

had  repelled  the  munificent  appeals  of  countless  infatu- 
uated  men.  Treasure  had  been  laid  at  her  feet,  only  to 
be  kicked  aside.  She  calmly  spoke  of  herself  as  a  pearl 
without  price.  She  was  content  to  possess,  but  not  to 
be  possessed.  That  was  what  she  called  self-respect. 
She  was  a  pagan,  but  she  was  her  own  idol.  She  wor 
shipped  herself.  She  would  never  permit  her  idol  to 
be  desecrated. 

All  this  Percival  knew, —  or  rather  sensed.  He  was 
not  above  feeling  a  queer  sort  of  respect  and  admira 
tion  for  her.  She  was  not  without  integrity. 

He  had  reached  the  pinnacle  of  happiness  in  believ 
ing  that  the  girl  he  loved  was  in  his  arms.  He  was 
blind  and  deaf  with  ecstasy.  The  awakening  was  a 
shock.  His  senses  reeled  for  an  instant, —  and  then 
Ruth  Clinton  went  out  of  his  thoughts  entirely! 

"  Damn  you !  "  he  cried  again,  and  drew  her  close. 
"  She  hates  me, —  she  will  always  hate  me,"  he  was 
mumbling.  "Why  should  I  care?  Why  should  I  re 
fuse  to  take  — "  Her  lips  were  on  his  again,  warm, 
firm,  voluptuous,  drawing  his  heart's  blood  with  the 
resistless  power  of  a  magnet. 

They  did  not  hear  the  rapid  approach  of  footsteps 
—  heavy,  swift  as  of  one  running.  A  dark,  panting 
figure  raced  past  them,  and  then  another  but  a  few 
paces  behind. 

Percival's  senses  were  released.  They  cast  off  the 
bewitching  bonds.  His  head  went  up  again.  In  a  flash 
his  brain  was  clear.  His  arms  were  still  about  her, 
she  was  still  lying  close  against  him, —  but  the  current 
of  passion  that  consumed  both  of  them  was  checked. 

"What  was  that?  "  she  gasped,  as  if  coming  out  of 
a  dream. 

He  released  her,  and  sprang  out  into  the  path  to 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

peer  fruitlessly  after  the  unseen  runners.  The  sound 
of  footsteps  was  rapidly  diminishing. 

They  were  suddenly  aware  of  women's  voices  far 
away  to  the  right.  They  were  indistinct  but  there  was 
a  sinister  significance  in  the  ever-increasing  volume. 

"  There's  trouble  out  there,"  said  Percival.  "  Some 
thing  wrong.  Come, —  come  along !  You  must  get  in 
doors  at  once."  He  grasped  her  arm  and  started  rap 
idly  off  in  the  direction  of  her  cabin.  She  stumbled 
at  first,  but  quickly  fell  into  stride  with  him.  Men's 
shouts  were  now  added  to  the  clamour. 

"  I  know, —  I  know,"  she  cried  in  his  ear.  "  It  has 
happened,  just  as  I  said  it  would.  Some  of  these  men 
are  beasts." 

"  Then,  there's  hell  to  pay,"  he  grated. 

They  reached  her  cabin  just  as  the  door  was  thrown 
open.  The  three  startled  coryphees  filled  the  entrance. 
Recognition  was  followed  by  a  clatter  of  agitated 
voices.  Olga  was  fairly  dragged  into  the  cabin. 

"  Bolt  your  door,"  was  Percival's  command  as  he 
turned  away. 

She  stood  in  the  door  for  a  moment,  looking  after 
him.*  He  passed  out  of  the  radius  of  light.  The  chorus 
of  voices  grew  louder  down  the  way, —  like  the  make- 
believe  mob  in  the  theatre. 

Then  she  closed  the  door  slowly,  reluctantly.  The 
three  girls  watched  her  in  silence  as  she  stood  for  many 
seconds  with  her  hand  on  the  knob,  her  eyes  tightly 
shut. 

She  turned  and  faced  them.  There  was  a  wry  smile 
on  her  lips  as  she  shrugged  her  shoulders  and  spread 
out  her  hands  in  a  gesture  of  resignation. 

"  Yes, —  bolt  the  door,"  she  said.  As  Alma  hesi 
tated,  her  eyes  grew  hard,  her  voice  imperative.  "  Do 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

you  know  of  any  reason  why  you  should  not  do  as  both 
Mr.  Percivail  and  I  have  commanded?  " 

"  No, —  no,  Madame,"  cried  Alma  hastily. 

As  the  heavy  wooden  bolt  fell  into  place,  Olga  again 
shrugged  her  shoulders  and  threw  herself  into  a  chair 
in  front  of  the  fireplace. 

"  Put  on  your  clothes,"  she  ordered. 

"  What  is  happening,  Madame  ?  What  is  all  the 
noise  about?  "  questioned  one  of  the  girls. 

But  there  was  no  answer.  Olga  was  staring  into  the 
fire. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

PERCIVAL'S  blood  was  still  in  a  tumult  as  he 
ran  down  the  line  of  cabins.  From  every  door 
way  men  were  now  stumbling,  half-dressed,  half- 
asleep.  Behind  them,  in  many  cabins,  alarmed,  agi 
tated  women  appeared.  Farther  on  there  were  lanterns 
and  a  chaotic  mass  of  moving  objects.  Above  the  in 
creasing  clamour  rose  the  horrible,  uncanny  wail  of  a 
woman.  PercivaPs  blood  cooled,  his  brain  cleared. 
Men  shouted  questions  as  he  passed,  and  obeyed  his 
command  to  follow. 

The  ugly  story  is  soon  told.  Philippa,  the  fifteen- 
year-old  daughter  of  Pedro,  the  head-farmer,  had  gone 
out  from  her  father's  cabin  at  dusk  to  fetch  water 
from  the  little  reservoir  that  had  been  constructed 
alongside  Leap  Frog  River  a  short  distance  above  the 
cabins.  The  pool  was  a  scant  two  hundred  yards  from 
her  home.  It  was  a  five  minutes'  walk  there  and  back. 
Half-an-hour  passed,  and  she  had  not  returned.  Her 
mother  became  uneasy.  Pedro  reassured  her.  He 
laughed  at  her  fears. 

"  She  could  not  have  fallen  into  the  pool,"  he  said. 
"  You  forget  the  fence  we  have  built  around  it." 

"  I  am  not  thinking  of  the  pool,  Pedro,"  she  argued. 
"  Go  you  at  once  and  search  for  her.  She  is  no  lag 
gard.  She  has  not  stopped  in  to  see  one  of  the  girls." 

And  Pedro  went  grumpily  forth  to  search  for  his 
daughter.  An  hour  later  he  came  staggering  down 
from  the  woods  above  the  pool  to  meet  the  dozen  or 

more  friends  and  neighbours  who  had  set  out  some- 

243 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

time  earlier  to  look  for  the  two  of  them,  father  and 
daughter. 

He  bore  in  his  arms  the  limp,  apparently  lifeless  form 
of  Philippa.  He  was  covered  with  blood,  he  was  chat 
tering  like  a  madman.  Out  of  his  incoherent  babble 
the  horrified  searchers  were  able  to  put  together  the 
cruel  story.  It  seems  he  had  heard  a  faint  cry  far  back 
in  the  dense  wood, —  another  and  yet  another.  Then 
utter  silence.  Even  the  night-birds  were  still.  Swift, 
paralysing  fear  choked  him.  He  tried  to  call  out  as 
he  rushed  blindly  up  from  the  pool  into  the  forest,  but 
only  hoarse,  unnatural  gasps  left  his  lips.  He  fell 
often,  he  crashed  into  the  trunks  of  trees,  but  always 
he  went  onward,  gasping  out  his  futile  cries.  He  knew 
not  how  long  he  beat  through  the  forest.  He  was 
not  even  sure  that  it  was  Philippa's  cry  he  had  heard, 
but  his  soul  was  filled  with  a  great,  convincing  dread. 
He  knew  that  his  beloved  Philippa,  the  idol  of  his  heart, 
the  sunshine  of  his  life,  was  up  there  in  the  woods. 
Frequently  he  stopped  to  listen.  He  could  hear  noth 
ing  save  the  pounding  of  his  own  heart,  and  the  wheez 
ing  of  his  breath,  thick  and  laboured. 

Then,  at  last,  during  one  of  those  silences,  he  heard 
something  moving  in  the  darkness  near  at  hand.  Some 
thing  —  some  one  was  coming  toward  him  through  the 
underbrush.  He  called  out  hoarsely :  "  Philippa ! " 
The  sound  ceased  instantly,  and  then  he  heard  a  whis 
pered  execration.  Wild  rage  possessed  him.  He 
plunged  forward  into  the  brush.  Something  crashed 
down  upon  his  head,  and  he  felt  himself  falling  for 
ward.  The  next  he  knew,  he  was  trying  vainly  to  rise 
to  his  feet.  Something  hot  was  running  into  his  eyes, 
—  hot  and  sticky.  He  lifted  his  hand  to  his  head;  it 
came  away  wet.  He  put  his  fingers  into  his  mouth, — 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  245 

and  tasted  blood !  It  was  enough.  His  strength  came 
back.  He  sprang  to  his  feet  and  rushed  onward,  shout 
ing,  cursing,  calling  upon  God!  He  had  no  recollec 
tion  of  finding  his  girl.  Apparently  everything  was 
a  blank  to  him  until  long  afterwards  he  saw  lights  mov 
ing  among  the  trees,  and  voices  were  calling  his  name. 

Percival  and  other  cool-headed  men  were  hard  put 
to  check  the  fury  of  the  mob.  Men  and  women,  bent 
on  vengeance,  made  the  night  hideous  with  their  curses, 
howls  and  shrieks.  In  their  senseless  fury  they  pre 
pared  to  kill.  They  had  heard  the  stories  about  Man 
uel  Crust  and  his  disciples.  Only  the  determined  stand 
taken  by  the  small  group  that  rallied  to  Percival's  sup 
port  kept  the  maddened  crowd  from  seeking  out  these 
men  and  rending  them  limb  from  limb.  The  sailors 
from  the  Doraine  were  the  first  to  listen  to  the  pleas 
of  the  level-headed, —  just  as  they  had  been  the  first 
to  demand  the  lives  of  Manuel  Crust  and  his  gang.  In 
dividually  they  were  rough  men  and  lawless,  collec 
tively  they  were  the  slaves  of  discipline.  It  was  to 
their  vanity  that  Percival  and  the  others  appealed, — 
only  they  called  it  honour  instead  of  vanity.  The  mob 
spirit  was  quelled  for  the  time  being,  at  least.  No  one 
was  so  foolish  as  to  believe  that  it  was  dead,  however. 
Unless  the  man  guilty  of  the  shocking  crime  was  found 
«nd  delivered  up  for  punishment,  the  inevitable  would 
happen. 

"  We'll  get  the  right  man,"  said  the  voice  of  uni 
versal  fury,  "  if  we  have  to  cut  the  heart  out  of  every 
one  of  Manuel  Crust's  gang." 

The  women  were  the  worst.  They  fought  like  wild 
cats  to  reach  the  cabins  occupied  b;  the  known  follow 
er  of  Manuel  Crust.  With  knives  and  axes  and  burn- 


246  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

ing  faggots  they  tried  again  and  again  to  force  their 
way  through  the  stubborn  wall  of  men  that  had  been 
raised  against  them. 

As  for  Manuel  Crust  and  his  little  group  of  radicals, 
they  had  vanished.  They  had  mingled  with  the  mob 
at  the  outset.  There  were  many  who  recalled  seeing 
this  one  and  that  one,  remembered  speaking  to  him, 
remembered  hearing  him  curse  the  ravisher.  But  as 
their  own  names  began  to  run  from  lip  to  lip,  they 
silently,  swiftly  disappeared. 

Dawn  found  the  camp  awake,  but  grimly  silent.  No 
one  had  gone  to  bed.  With  the  first  streak  of  day, 
the  man-hunt  began  in  earnest.  All  night  long  the 
camp  had  been  patrolled.  Every  cabin  had  been 
searched,  even  those  occupied  solely  by  women.  This 
search  had  been  conducted  in  an  orderly,  business-like 
way  under  the  supervision  of  men  chosen  by  Percival. 
The  folly  of  beating  the  woods  during  the  night  was 
recognized  even  by  the  most  impatient ;  there  was  time 
enough  for  that  when  the  blackness  of  night  had  lifted. 

Throughout  the  long  night,  the  restless  crowd,  with 
but  one  thought  in  mind,  hung  about  the  cabin  of  Pedro 
the  farmer.  The  doctors  and  several  of  the  nurses 
were  in  there.  Down  at  the  meeting-house  a  bonfire  had 
been  started,  and  here  were  grouped  the  men  to  whom 
the  leaders  had  intrusted  firearms  and  other  weapons, — 
men  of  the  gun  crew,  under  officers  from  the  Doraine, 
the  committee  of  ten  and  others. 

It  was  accepted  as  a  fact  that  two  men  were  in 
volved  in  the  heinous  deed.  PercivaPs  account  of  the 
mysterious  runners  seemed  definitely  to  establish  this. 
He  called  upon  Olga  Obosky  to  verify  his  statement. 
If  she  was  surprised  by  his  admission  that  he  was  in 
her  company  when  the  men  rushed  past  them  in  ti  ° 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

darkness,  she  did  not  betray  the  fact.  She  indulged  in 
a  derisive  smile  when  he  went  on  to  explain  that  it  was 
so  dark  he  had  failed  to  recognize  her  until  she  spoke 
to  him.  She  agreed  with  him  that  the  two  men  must 
have  come  into  the  open  a  very  short  distance  above 
them,  having  sneaked  out  between  the  cabins  before 
suddenly  breaking  into  a  run.  Avoiding  the  beaten 
roadway,  they  had  laid  their  course  twenty  or  thirty 
feet  to  the  right  of  it,  keeping  to  the  soft,  springy 
turf. 

Percival  had  issued  orders  for  the  entire  camp  to 
congregate  on  the  Green  at  the  first  sign  of  day.  The 
cold  grey  light  of  dawn  fell  upon  vague,  unreal  forms 
moving  across  the  open  spaces  from  all  directions. 
There  was  no  shouting,  no  turmoil,  scarcely  the  sound 
of  a  voice.  The  silent,  ghostly  figures  merged  into  a 
compact,  motionless  mass  in  front  of  the  meeting 
house.  It  was  not  necessary  for  Percival  to  call  for 
order  when  he  appeared  on  the  steps  and  began  to 
speak.  The  only  sounds  were  the  shuffling  of  feet,  the 
rustling  of  garments,  the  deep,  restrained  breathing  of 
the  mass. 

He  spoke  partly  in  English  and  partly  in  Spanish, 
and  he  was  brief. 

"  You  know  what  we  are  here  for  and  what  is  ahead 
of  us.  I  don't  have  to  tell  you  the  story  of  last  night. 
You  know  it  as  well  as  I.  You  will  be  glad  to  hear 
the  latest  word  from  Dr.  Cullen.  Philippa  is  conscious. 
He  thinks  she  will  recover.  She  is  having  the  best  of 
care  and  attention.  I  will  explain  why  we  are  all  here 
now.  The  first  thing  for  us  to  do  is  to  count  noses. 
We  will  go  about  it  as  rapidly  as  possible.  After  that, 
we  will  get  down  to  business.  Mr.  Landover  and  Mr. 
M alone  will  check  off  the  name  of  every  man,  woman 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

and  child.  As  your  names  are  called,  come  forward, 
answer,  and  then  move  over  beyond  the  corner  of  the 
building.  We've  got  to  find  out  just  who  is  missing, — 
if  any  one  is  missing  at  all." 

He  raised  his  voice.  "  I  want  you  all  to  keep  cool. 
Don't  forget  that  we  are  after  the  men  who  committed 
this  crime.  We  have  no  right  to  say  that  Manuel 
Crust  or  any  of  his  crowd  did  this  thing  until  we  have 
positive  proof  of  the  fact.  It  may  not  have  been  any 
of  Manuel's  gang,  don't  forget  that,  people.  We  must 
make  no  mistakes.  I  am  saying  this  to  you  now  be 
cause  I  see  Manuel  Crust  and  some  of  his  friends  stand 
ing  over  there  at  the  edge  of  the  clearing.  Stop! 
Don't  make  a  move  in  their  direction.  We've  all  had 
time  to  think, — we've  all  had  time  to  get  ourselves  in 
hand.  There  is  a  right  and  a  wrong  way  to  handle 
this  thing, —  and  we've  got  to  be  sure  we're  right.  The 
guilty  cannot  escape.  They  haven't  a  chance,  and  you 
know  it.  So,  let's  be  sure, —  let's  be  dead  sure  before 
we  accuse  any  man.  We  have  no  right  to  charge  Man 
uel's  gang  with  this  crime.  The  guilty  men  may  be 
here  among  us, —  absolutely  unsuspected.  Chizler ! 
You  and  Soapy  Shay  go  over  and  tell  those  men  that 
we  are  taking  a  count  of  all  the  people  in  this  camp. 
Tell  them  to  come  and  answer  to  their  names.  They 
will  be  safe." 

The  count  was  never  completed.  Manuel  Crust  did 
not  wait  for  his  name  to  be  called.  He  pushed  his  way 
through  the  crowd,  leaving  his  followers  behind.  Ad 
vancing  to  the  foot  of  the  steps  he  cried  out  hoarsely 
to  Percival: 

"  If  you  want  your  men,  I  —  I,  Manuel  Crust,  will 
lead  you  to  one  of  them.  He  is  up  there  in  the  wood. 
Three  men  are  guarding  him.  He  is  Sancho  Mendez, 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  249 

the  blacksmith.  Listen,  I  will  tell  you.  It  is  the  God's 
truth  I  tell.  There  were  seven  of  us  hiding  out  there 
in  the  wood.  We  were  scared.  We  heard  our  names 
called  out.  We  had  heard  the  threats  to  burn  us  alive. 
We  ran  away.  We  were  not  cowards, —  but  still  we 
ran  away.  We  would  wait  till  the  crowd  cooled  off. 
That  was  my  advice.  Then  we  would  return, —  then 
we  would  help  to  find  the  men  who  did  it, —  and  we 
would  help  to  burn  them  alive.  An  hour  ago  Sancho 
Mendez  crawled  out  of  the  brush  up  there  above  the 
landing  and  begged  us  to  protect  him.  His  leg  was 
broken.  He  had  fallen  over  a  log.  You  all  know 
Sancho  Mendez.  He  was  a  good  boy.  He  was  the 
friend  of  Boss  Percival.  He  was  no  friend  to  me. 
But  he  swears  he  will  be  my  slave  for  ever  if  I  will  save 
him.  Then  he  tells  us  everything.  When  I  ask  him 
why  the  hell  he  run  away,  he  says  he  lose  his  mind  or 
something.  He  just  go  crazy,  he  says.  He  say  every 
body  was  chasing  him, —  he  could  hear  them  in  the 
bushes,  he  could  hear  that  girl  screaming  out  his  name, 
—  and  all  that.  He  was  going  to  jump  in  the  water 
and  drown,  because  he  say  people  tell  him  always  it  is 
the  easy  way  to  die.  But  he  falls  down  and  breaks 
his  leg, —  here  below  the  knee.  He  cannot  run  no  more. 
It  is  all  up.  He  is  afraid  to  breathe.  People  are  all 
around  him  with  knives  and  axes  and  clubs.  He  can 
hear  them  in  the  brush.  Then  the  daylight  comes, 
and  he  sees  us  down  below  in  the  wood,  and  he  says  he 
thanks  God.  I  will  be  his  friend, —  I  will  save  him  be 
cause  I  am  an  angel  from  heaven !  Bah  1  I  spit  in 
his  face.  We  tie  him  to  a  tree  with  our  belts,  and  then 
I  come  down  to  tell  Boss  Percival  we  have  his  man, — 
his  good  and  loyal  friend." 

"  Stop !  "  yelled  Percival,  as  the  crowd  began  to  show 


250  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

symptoms  of  breaking  away.  "  Listen  to  me !  I  give 
you  fair  warning.  I  don't  want  to  do  it,  but,  by  God, 
I'll  order  these  men  to  shoot  the  first  who  tries  to  start 
anything.  We're  going  to  have  law  and  order  here. 
This  man  Sancho  is  going  to  have  a  fair  trial.  What's 
more,  he  had  a  companion.  What  does  he  say  of  the 
other  man,  Manuel  Crust?  " 

"  Sancho  Mendez  says  he  was  alone.  There  was  no 
other  man." 

Percival  looked  hard  into  Manuel  Crust's  bloodshot 
eyes.  An  appalling  thought  had  suddenly  flashed  into 
his  mind.  Many  seconds  passed  before  he  dared  to 
open  his  lips.  As  if  by  divine  revelation  the  situation 
lay  bare  before  him, —  the  whole  Machiavelian  scheme 
as  conceived  by  Manuel.  Sancho  Mendez  was  to  be 
sacrificed ! 

Even  as  he  stood  there  speechless,  the  plan  began  to 
work  toward  its  well-calculated  end.  Manuel's  friends 
started  to  harangue  the  crowd.  They  were  growling 
hoarse  invectives,  shaking  their  fists  in  the  direction  of 
the  wood,  fanning  the  pent-up  fury  of  the  mob  into  a 
whirlwind  that  would  sweep  everything  before  it.  Once 
the  tide  turned  there  would  be  no  stopping  it  until 
Sancho  Mendez  was  torn  to  pieces.  He  would  shriek 
his  innocence  into  deaf  ears.  And  that  was  Manuel's 
game. 

Percival's  heart  leaped  with  joy  as  he  saw  the  armed 
force  under  Lieutenant  Platt  move  swiftly  into  a  posi 
tion  barring  the  way  to  the  woods.  He  thrilled  with 
a  mighty  pride  in  the  shrewd  intelligence  and  resource 
fulness  of  this  trained  fighting-man  from  the  far-off 
homeland. 

Manuel  Crust  was  turning  away  to  mingle  with  the 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT        \  251 

crowd.  Quick  as  a  flash,  Percival  was  down  from  the 
steps  and  at  the  "  Portugee's  "  side.  He  grasped  the 
man's  arm. 

"  I've  got  a  gun  against  your  back,"  he  cried  in 
fierce  suppressed  tones.  "  Stand  still  and  keep  your 
mouth  shut,  or  I'll  drill  a  hole  through  you.  You're 
safe  if  you  do  as  I  tell  you,  Crust.  I'm  onto  your  little 
game.  I'm  not  saying  you  are  the  guilty  man,  but  you 
know  who  he  is, —  and  it  won't  work." 

Manuel  Crust  was  as  rigid  as  a  block  of  stone.  He 
did  not  even  turn  his  head  to  look  into  the  face  of  the 
man  who  held  him. 

Michael  Malone  and  Landover  were  at  Percival's  side 
in  an  instant.  From  their  position  on  the  steps  they 
could  see  what  was  not  visible  to  the  crowd  beyond, — 
the  revolver  that  was  pressed  against  the  small  of 
Crust's  back. 

"  Cover  this  man,"  whispered  Percival  to  Malone. 
"  Shoot  if  he  opens  his  mouth." 

Malone's  revolver  was  jammed  against  the  "  Portu 
gee's  "  back,  and  Percival  sprang  back  up  the  steps. 

Manuel  Crust  shot  a  look  of  surprise  at  Abel  Land- 
over. 

"  What  the  hell  — "  he  began,  but  choked  off  the 
words  at  a  command  from  Malone.  While  Perci 
val  was  rapidly  calling  out  orders  from  above,  he 
broke  out  recklessly  again,  addressing  the  stern-faced 
banker. 

"  Are  you  my  friend  or  not  ?  "  he  snarled.  "  What 
kind  of  a  man  are  you?  Speak  up!  Tell  them  I'm 
all  right." 

"  Keep  quiet,"  warned  Malone. 

Landover's  eyes  met  the  searching,  questioning  gaze 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

of  the  Portuguese.  Manuel  Crust  apparently  was  sat 
isfied  with  what  he  read  in  them,  for  a  quick  gleam 
of  confidence  leaped  into  his  own.  His  chest  swelled 
with  a  tremendous  intake  of  breath. 

The  remarkable  personality, —  or  perhaps  the  mag 
netism, —  of  the  "  boss,"  again  asserted  itself.  He 
made  no  allusion  to  the  thing  uppermost  in  his  mind  as 
he  spoke  hurriedly,  emphatically  to  the  tense  throng. 
When  he  directed  Randolph  Fitts  to  take  a  few  picked 
men  with  him  up  into  the  woods  to  bring  down  the  cap 
tive,  there  were  mutterings  but  no  move  on  the  part  of 
the  crowd  either  to  anticipate  or  to  follow  the  detach 
ment.  A  few  terse  words  to  Buck  Chizler  sent  that 
active  young  man  after  Fitts,  the  bearer  of  instruc 
tions.  Sancho  Mendez  was  to  be  brought  in  alive.  His 
guards  were  not  to  be  given  a  chance  to  kill  him  when 
they  realized  that  the  scheme  had  failed  and  he  would 
be  allowed  to  tell  his  own  story. 

With  the  departure  of  Fitts  and  his  men,  Percival 
ordered  the  people  to  return  to  their  cabins.  He  prom 
ised  them  that  Sancho  Mendez  should  have  his  just 
deserts.  Slowly,  reluctantly  the  crowd  broke  up  and 
shuffled  away  in  small  groups  across  the  dewy  Green. 
Manuel  Crust  was  free  to  go.  The  few  words  that 
passed  between  Landover  and  Percival,  although  un 
heard  by  the  man,  sufficed  to  put  courage  back  into 
his  heart.  He  had  come  to  look  upon  the  banker  as 
his  «  pal  " !  And  his  "  pal  "  had  not  failed  him ! 

This  is  what  Landover  said  to  Percival: 

"  Whatever  may  be  in  your  mind,  Percival,  I  want 
to  say  this  to  you.  I  was  in  Manuel  Crust's  cabin 
when  the  thing  happened.  There  were  eight  of  us 
there.  I  can  point  out  to  you  the  other  six.  I  must 
beg  you  to  overlook  the  fact  that  we  are  not  friends, 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  253 

and  believe  what  I  am  saying.  It  is  the  absolute 
truth." 

"  I  will  take  jour  word  for  it,  Mr.  Landover,"  said 
Percival,  after  a  moment.  "  I  am  aware  of  your  deal 
ings  with  Crust  and  his  crowd.  I  don't  know  what  the 
game  is,  but  I  do  know  that  you  have  been  fostering 
discontent, —  it  may  even  amount  to  revolt, —  among 
these  men.  If  you  say  you  were  with  Crust  and  that 
he  was  not  out  of  your  sight  all  evening,  I  will  believe 
you.  You  may  be  a  misguided,  domineering  fool,  Mr. 
Landover,  but  you  are  honest.  You  have  failed  to 
appreciate  what  you  were  stirring  up, —  what  you  were 
letting  yourself  and  all  the  rest  of  us  in  for,  that's 
all." 

Landover  flushed.  He  compressed  his  lips  for  a  sec 
ond  or  two  before  speaking. 

"  My  opposition  to  you  as  a  dictator,  Percival, 
hardly  warrants  the  implication  that  I  am  in  a  sense 
responsible  for  the  devilish  thing  that  happened  last 
night." 

"  I  grant  you  that,"  said  Percival.  "  Nevertheless, 
it  is  your  purpose  to  down  me,  no  matter  what  it  costs, 
—  isn't that  true?" 

"  No,  it  is  not  true.  There  is  an  honest,  sincere  be 
lief  on  the  part  of  some  of  us  that  you  are  not  the  man 
to  rule  this  camp.  You  may  call  it  politics,  if  you 
like, —  or  revolt,  if  you  prefer." 

"  We'll  call  it  politics,  Mr.  Landover.  It  was  not 
politics  that  made  me  the  superintendent  of  construc 
tion  here,  however.  I've  looked  after  the  job  to  the 
best  of  my  ability.  I  am  ready  to  retire  whenever  the 
people  decide  they've  found  a  better  man.  You  may 
be  right  in  supposing  that  Manuel  Crust  is  the  right 
man  for  the  job, —  but  I  don't  agree  with  you." 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

Landover  started.  "  Nothing  is  farther  from  my 
thoughts  than  to  turn  the  affairs  of  this  camp  over  to 
Crust,"  he  said. 

"  Once  more  I  agree  with  you.  But  that  is  what  you 
will  be  doing,  just  the  same.  If  you  think  that  Manuel 
Crust  is  going  to  play  second  fiddle  to  you,  Mr.  Land- 
over,  you'll  suddenly  wake  up  to  find  yourself  mistaken. 
You  know  what  Crust  is  advocating,  don't  you?  Well, 
I  guess  there's  nothing  more  to  be  said  on  the  subject." 

"  We  will  drop  it,  then,"  said  Landover  curtly.  "  I 
merely  want  you  to  understand  that  Crust  had  no  hand 
in  last  night's  affair.  I  can  vouch  for  that." 

"  Can  you  vouch  for  each  and  every  member  of  his 
gang?  " 

"  I  know  nothing  about  his  gang,  as  you  call  it.  If 
I  am  not  mistaken,  this  fellow  Mendez  is  one  of  your 
pet  supporters.  He  may  be  double-crossing  you." 

"  We'll  see.  For  the  present,  your  friend  Crust  is 
safe.  As  long  as  he  lives  within  the  law,  he  is  all 
right.  We're  going  to  have  law  and  order  here,  Mr. 
Landover.  I  want  you  to  understand  that.  The  best 
evidence  that  most  of  us  want  law  and  order  is  the  in 
credible  manner  in  which  these  people  have  curbed  their 
natural  instincts." 

"  No  one  wants  law  and  order  more  than  I,"  said 
Landover. 

"  And  I  suppose  Manuel  Crust  is  of  the  same  mind, 
eh?" 

"  So  far  as  I  know,  he  is,"  replied  the  other  firmly. 

Percival  looked  at  him*  in  blank  astonishment. 
66  Well,  I'm  damned !  "  he  said,  after  a  moment.  "  Do 
you  really  believe  that  ?  " 

"  It  does  not  follow  that  he  is  an  advocate  of  law 
lessness  and  disorder  because  he  happens  to  be  opposed 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  255 

to  some  of  your  pet  schemes,  does  it,  Mr.  Percival?  " 
inquired  Landover  ironically. 

"  One  of  my  pet  schemes  happens  to  conflict  seriously 
with  Manuel's  pet  scheme,  if  that  will  strengthen  your 
argument  any,  Mr.  Landover." 

"  I  don't  believe  Crust  ever  had  any  such  thought," 
said  the  other  flatly. 

"  We're  not  getting  anywhere  by  arguing  the  point," 
said  Percival.  He  turned  to  walk  away. 

"  Just  a  moment,"  called  out  Landover,  after  the 
younger  man  had  taken  a  few  steps.  "  See  here,  Per 
cival,  I  don't  want  you  to  misunderstand  me.  If  there 
is  anything  in  this  talk  about  Crust, —  you  know  what 
I  mean, —  and  if  it  should  come  to  the  point  where 
stern  measures  are  required,  I  will  be  with  you,  heart 
and  soul.  You  know  that,  don't  you  ?  " 

Percival  studied  the  banker's  face  for  a  moment. 
"  I've  never  doubted  it  for  an  instant,  Landover.  We 
may  yet  shake  hands  and  be  friends  in  spite  of  our 
selves." 

Landover  turned  on  his  heel  and  walked  away,  and 
Percival,  with  a  shrug  of  his  shoulders,  set  about  mak 
ing  preparations  to  safe-guard  Sancho  Mendez  when 
he  was  brought  in  from  the  wood.  He  posted  a  num 
ber  of  reliable,  cool-headed  men  around  the  "  meeting 
house,"  many  of  them  being  armed.  Arrangements 
were  made  for  barricading  the  door  and  the  few  win 
dows.  The  prisoner  was  to  be  confined  in  the  building, 
a  long,  low  structure,  and  there  he  was  to  tell  his  story 
and  stand  trial.  There  was  to  be  no  delay  in  the  mat 
ter  of  a  trial. 

"  You  will  sit  as  judge,  Mike,"  said  the  "  boss," 
addressing  Malone.  "  There  will  not  be  any  legal  tech 
nicalities,  old  man,  and  there  won't  be  any  appeal, — 


256  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

so  all  you've  got  to  do  is  to  act  like  a  judge  and  not 
like  a  lawyer.  We've  got  to  do  this  thing  in  the  regu 
lar  way.  Try  to  forget  that  you  have  practiced  in 
the  New  York  City  courts.  Remember  that  there  is 
such  a  thing  as  justice  and  pay  absolutely  no  attention 
to  what  you  are  in  the  habit  of  calling  the  law.  The 
law  is  a  beautiful  thing  if  you  don't  take  it  too  seri 
ously.  Ninety-nine  out  of  every  hundred  judges  in  the 
courts  of  the  U.  S.  A.  sit  through  a  trial  worrying 
their  heads  off  trying  to  remember  the  law  so  that  they 
can  keep  out  of  the  record  things  that  might  make  them 
look  like  jackasses  when  the  case  is  carried  up  to  a 
higher  court, —  and  while  they  are  thinking  so  hard 
about  the  law  they  forget  all  about  the  poor  little  trifle 
called  justice.  I  guess  you  know  that  as  well  as  I 
do,  so  there's  no  use  talking  about  it." 

"  I  guess  I  do,"  said  Michael  Malone.  "  I  live  on 
technicalities  when  I'm  in  New  York.  If  it  were  not 
for  technicalities,  I'd  starve  to  death.  And,  my  God, 
man,  if  we  had  to  stop  and  think  about  justice  every 
time  we  go  into  court,  we'd  be  a  disgrace  to  the  profes 
sion." 

Percival,  Peter  Snipe,  Flattner  and  several  others 
strode  out  from  the  meeting-house  and  swept  the  long 
line  of  huts  with  serious,  apprehensive  eyes.  They  had 
expected  to  find  the  people  congregated  at  some  nearby 
point,  ready  to  swoop  down  upon  the  prisoner  the  in 
stant  he  appeared  with  his  captors  at  the  edge  of  the 
wood.  To  their  amazement  and  relief,  the  people  had 
taken  Percival's  command  literally.  They  had  retired 
to  their  huts,  and  but  few  of  them  were  to  be  seen,  even 
on  their  doorsteps. 

"  Can  you  beat  it?  "  cried  Snipe.  "  By  golly,  boys, 
they've  put  it  squarely  up  to  us.  It's  the  greatest  ex- 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  257 

hibition  of  restraint  and  confidence  I've  ever  known. 
This  couldn't  have  happened  at  home.  Hello !  " 

The  gaze  of  all  was  centred  upon  two  persons  who 
walked  rapidly  in  the  direction  taken  by  Fitts  and  his 
party.  No  one  spoke  for  a  few  seconds.  Flattner, 
after  a  quick  look  at  Percival's  set,  scowling  face,  was 
the  first  to  speak.  To  a  certain  degree,  he  understood 
the  situation.  It  was  out  of  pure  consideration  for  his 
friend's  feelings  that  he  said: 

"  I'll  go  and  head  'em  off,  A.  A." 

"  Thanks,  old  chap, —  but  there's  no  sense  in  getting 
yourself  disliked.  I'll  do  it.  I'm  in  bad  already, — 
and  besides  I'm  the  one  who  gave  the  order." 

Near  the  end  of  the  row  of  huts,  he  drew  alongside 
of  Ruth  Clinton  and  Landover. 

"  The  order  was  meant  for  every  one,  Miss  Clinton," 
he  said  levelly.  "  Am  I  to  understand  that  you  have 
decided  to  ignore  it?  " 

She  stopped  short  and  drew  herself  up  haughtily. 
Their  eyes  met.  There  was  defiance  in  hers.  She  did 
not  speak.  Landover  confronted  Percival,  white  with 
fury. 

"  I  am  capable  of  looking  after  Miss  Clinton,"  he  ex 
claimed.  "  Your  beastly  officiousness  — " 

"  You  will  go  back  to  your  cabin  at  once,  Miss  Clin 
ton,"  said  Percival,  ignoring  Landover. 

She  did  not  move. 

"  Miss  Clinton  came  out  here  at  my  suggestion," 
said  Landover.  "  If  you  have  any  more  bullying  to 
do,  confine  yourself  to  me,  Percival." 

"  I  am  not  doing  this  because  I  enjoy  it,  Miss  Clin 
ton,"  went  on  the  young  man,  still  looking  into  her 
unwavering  eyes.  "  I  am  sorry  it  is  necessary  to  re 
mind  you  that  there  are  no  privileged  classes  here. 


258  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

You  will  have  to  obey  orders  the  same  as  every  one 
else." 

"  Very  well,"  she  said,  suddenly  lowering  her  eyes. 
"  Take  me  back  to  the  cabin,  Mr.  Landover.  There  is 
nothing  more  to  say." 

Percival  stood  aside.  They  walked  past  him  with 
out  so  much  as  a  glance  at  his  set,  unsmiling  face. 
Landover  slipped  an  arm  through  hers.  She  did  not 
resist  when  he  drew  her  up  close  to  his  side.  Percival 
saw  him  lean  over  and  speak  to  her  after  they  had 
gone  a  few  paces.  His  lips  were  close  to  her  ear, 
but  though  his  voice  was  low  and  repressed,  the  words 
were  distinctly  audible  to  the  young  man. 

"  Ruth  darling,  I  am  sorry, —  I  can't  tell  you  how 
sorry  I  am  for  having  subjected  you  to  this  insult. 
God,  if  I  could  only  help  matters  by  resenting  it, 
I—" 

She  broke  in,  her  voice  as  clear  as  a  bell. 

"Oh,  if  I  were  only  a  man, —  if  I  were  only  a  man !  " 

They  were  well  out  of  hearing  before  Percival  looked 
despairingly  up  at  the  pink  and  grey  sky  and  muttered 
with  heartfelt  earnestness: 

"  I  wish  to  God  you  were.  I'd  like  nothing  better 
than  to  be  soundly  threshed  by  you." 


CHAPTER  IX 

JUST  before  sunset  that  evening,  Sancho  Mendez 
was  publicly  hanged.  Confessing  the  crime,  he 
was  carried  to  the  rude  gibbet  at  the  far  edge 
of  the  wheat  field  and  paid  the  price  in  full.  He  had 
been  tried  by  a  jury  of  twelve;  and  there  was  abso 
lutely  no  question  as  to  his  guilt.  His  companion,  a 
lad  named  Dominic,  callously  betrayed  by  the  older 
man,  fled  to  the  forest  and  it  was  not  until  the  second 
day  after  the  hanging  that  he  was  found  by  a  party 
of  man-hunters,  half-starved  and  half-demented.  He 
was  hanged  at  sunrise  on  the  following  day. 

Manuel  Crust  considered  himself  glorified.  After  a 
fashion,  he  posed  as  a  martyr.  Some  sort  of  cunning, 
as  insidious  as  it  was  unexpected,  caused  him  to  assume 
an  air  of  humility.  He  went  about  shaking  his  head 
sorrowfully,  as  if  cut  to  the  quick  by  the  unjust  sus 
picions  that  had  been  heaped  upon  him  by  the  ignorant, 
easily-persuaded  populace. 

Sentiment  began  to  swing  toward  him.  He  and  his 
so-called  followers  were  vindicated.  It  was  his  gloomy, 
dejected  contention  that  if  Providence  had  not  inter 
vened  he  and  his  honest  fellows  undoubtedly  would  have 
been  placed  in  the  most  direful  position,  so  strong  and 
so  bitter  was  the  prejudice  that  conspired  against  him. 
He  was  constantly  thanking  Providence.  And  pres 
ently  other  people  undertook  to  thank  Providence  too. 
They  began  to  regard  Manuel  as  a  much-abused  man. 

The  burly  "  Portugee  "  haunted  the  cabin  of  Pedro 

259 


260  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

the  farmer.  He  was  the  most  solicitous  and  the  most 
active  of  all  who  strove  to  befriend  and  encourage  the 
unhappy  father,  and  no  one  was  more  devoted  than  he 
to  the  slowly-recovering  girl.  He  carried  flowers  to 
Pedro's  hut;  he  did  many  chores  for  Pedro's  wife;  he 
went  out  into  the  woods  and  killed  the  plumpest  birds 
he  could  find  and  cooked  them  himself  for  Pedro's 
daughter. 

Presently  he  began  to  assert  a  more  or  less  pro 
prietary  interest  in  the  family.  It  waS  no  uncommon 
thing  for  him  to  issue  orders  to  the  nurses ;  he  hectored 
the  Doctor;  and  on  several  occasions  he  went  so  far  as 
to  offend  such  well-meaning  ladies  as  Mrs.  Spofford, 
Madame  Careni-Amori,  Mrs.  Block  and  others  when 
they  appeared  at  Pedro's  cabin  with  delicacies  for  the 
girl.  And  finally  the  people  in  that  end  of  the  camp 
began  to  speak  of  Manuel  Crust  as  a  good  fellow  and 
a  gentleman! 

On  Easter  Sunday  he  stood  guard  over  Pedro's 
cabin  while  that  worthy  and  his  family  went  to  the 
"  Tabernacle  "  to  attend  the  special  services.  Two  of 
the  nurses  were  inside  with  the  girl,  but  outside  sat 
Manuel,  a  grim  watch-dog  that  growled  when  any  one 
approached. 

The  horror  of  that  black  night  and  the  days  that 
witnessed  the  wiping  out  of  Sancho  Mendez  and  Dominic 
hung  like  a  pall  over  the  camp.  Both  executions  had 
been  witnessed  by  practically  all  of  the  inhabitants. 
Captain  Trigger  came  ashore. 

With  set,  relentless  faces  the  people  watched  the 
two  men  go  to  their  doom.  The  women  were  as  stony- 
faced,  as  repressed,  as  the  men.  Save  for  the  involun 
tary  groans,  and  the  queer  hissing  sound  of  long-pent 
breath  as  the  black-capped  figures  swung  off  into  space, 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  261 

the  tremulous  hush  of  intense  restraint  rested  upon  the 
staring  crowd. 

Twice  they  came  out  to  see  men  they  had  known  and 
respected  "  hanged  by  the  neck  until  dead,"  and  on 
neither  occasion  was  there  the  slightest  manifestation 
of  pity,  nor  was  there  a  single  word  of  gloating. 
They  watched  and  then  they  went  away,  leaving  the 
victims  to  be  disposed  of  by  the  men  selected  for  the 
purpose.  No  shouts,  no  execrations,  no  hysterical 
cries  or  sobs, —  nothing  save  the  grim  silence  of  awe. 
For  these  people,  even  to  the  tiniest  child,  had  ceased 
to  live  in  the  light  of  other  days. 

Peter  Snipe,  in  his  journal,  wrote  of  that  silent,  sub 
dued  throng  as  other  historians  have  written  of  the 
rock-hearted  people  of  Salem,  and  of  the  soulful  Puri 
tans  who  grew  heartless  in  the  service  of  the  Lord. 

They  stood  afar-off  and  watched  the  small  detach 
ment  of  sailors  carry  the  bodies  down  to  the  basin, 
and  every  one  knew  that  Sancho  Mendez  and  Dominic, 
heavily  weighted,  were  rowed  out  to  the  middle  and 
dumped  into  a  bottomless  grave.  Some  there  were  who 
declared  that  their  bodies  would  sink  for  ages  before 
reaching  the  bottom, —  and  no  one  thought  of  Sancho 
Mendez  and  Dominic  without  picturing  them  as  gliding 
deeper  and  deeper  into  the  endless  abyss  of  water. 

Michael  Malone's  speech  to  the  multitude  on  the 
shorn  edge  of  the  wheat  field  was  brief.  He  spoke  from 
the  scaffold  on  which  Sancho  Mendez,  the  blacksmith, 
sat  with  a  noose  around  his  neck. 

"  This  man  has  been  fairly  tried  and  he  is  being 
fairly  punished.  There  is  no  way  to  circumvent  the 
laws  of  God  or  the  laws  of  man  on  this  island,  my 
friends.  The  guilty  cannot  escape.  If  we  transgress 
the  law,  we  must  pay  in  proportion  to  our  transgres- 


262  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

sion.  This  man  is  to  die.  The  laws  of  our  homeland 
would  not  have  demanded  the  life  of  such  as  he, —  but 
they  should,  my  friends,  they  should.  This  island  is 
small.  It  will  be  easy  for  us  to  keep  it  clean, —  and  we 
must  keep  it  clean.  We  must  not  live  in  fear  of  each 
other.  The  lion  and  the  lamb  lie  down  together  here; 
the  thief  and  the  honest  man  walk  hand  in  hand.  Our 
sins  will  find  us  out.  We  cannot  hide  them.  Remem 
ber  that.  In  this  little  land  of  ours  there  is  nothing 
to  stand  in  the  way  of  the  soundest  principle  ever  laid 
down  for  man.  '  Do  unto  others  as  ye  would  have 
others  do  unto  you.'  That  is  the  Golden  Rule.  All 
we  have  to  do  is  to  observe  that  rule  and  there  will 
be  no  use  for  the  Ten  Commandments,  nor  the  laws  of 
Moses,  nor  all  the  laws  that  man  has  made.  We  don't 
even  have  to  be  Christians.  '  Do  unto  others  as  ye 
would  have  others  do  unto  you.'  That,  my  friends,  is 
the  law  of  laws.  It  is  the  religion  of  religions." 

"  Soapy  "  Shay,  sitting  before  the  fire  in  his  cabin 
a  few  nights  after  the  executions,  held  forth  at  some 
length  and  with  peculiar  emphasis  on  what  he  called 
an  exploded  theory. 

"  As  I  said  before,  and  as  I've  always  said, —  not 
being  a  drinking  man  myself, —  it's  all  bunk  about  booze 
being  responsible  for  all  the  crimes  that  are  committed. 
Now  here  were  these  two  guys,  Sancho  and  Dominic. 
Look  at  what  they  did, —  and  they  hadn't  touched  a 
drop  for  months.  I'm  not  saying  that  licker  is  a 
soothin'  syrup  for  a  man's  morals,  but  what  I  am  say 
ing  is  that  if  a  feller  has  got  it  in  him  to  be  ornery, 
he'll  be  ornery,  drunk  or  sober.  I  was  tellin'  Parson 
Mackenzie  only  this  morning  that  him  and  me  both 
have  good  reason  for  not  touchin'  the  stuff, —  for  differ- 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  263 

ent  reasons,  of  course, —  but  I  didn't  see  why  other 
people  oughtn't  to  have  it  if  they  want  it. 

"  With  me,  in  my  former  profession,  it  would  have 
been  criminal  to  touch  the  stuff.  The  worst  crime  a 
burglar  can  commit  is  to  get  drunk.  No  decent,  bang- 
up  burglar  ever  does  it.  I  don't  suppose  there  is  a 
more  self-respectin'  sort  of  man  in  the  world  than  a 
high-grade  burglar.  And  it's  the  same  with  a  preacher. 
He  can't  any  more  preach  a  good  sermon  when  he  is 
lit  up  than  a  burglar  can  crack  a  safe  or  jimmy  a 
window  if  he  tanks  up  beforehand.  The  parson  seemed 
surprised  when  I  put  it  right  up  to  him  like  that.  He 
said  he'd  never  thought  of  it  in  that  light  before.  Of 
course,  says  he,  a  minister  of  the  gospel  ain't  even  sup 
posed  to  know  what  licker  tastes  like,  and  I  says  to  him 
that's  where  we  have  the  advantage  of  him.  We  know 
what  it  tastes  like,  and  we  like  it,  and  we  leave  it 
alone  because  it  cramps  our  style.  He  leaves  it  alone 
because  it's  the  style  for  preachers  to  leave  it  alone,  and 
because  they'd  go  to  hell  if  they  drank  like  ordinary 
men.  The  only  place  a  burglar  goes  to  if  he  boozes  is 
jail. 

"  Well,  as  I  was  sayin',  this  here  Sancho  wasn't 
soused  when  he  committed  that  crime,  and  it  all  goes 
to  prove  that  these  temperance  cranks  are  off  their 
base.  Most  of  the  crime  that's  committed  in  this  world 
is  committed  because  the  feller  wants  to  commit  it. 
When  I  was  up  in  Sing  Sing  once, —  sort  of  by  acci 
dent,  you  might  say, —  there  was  a  lot  of  talk  about 
prison  reform,  and  pattin'  the  crooks  on  the  back,  and 
tellin'  them  they  could  be  just  as  good  as  anybody 
else  if  they  had  a  chance.  The  only  chance  them  guys 
want,  and  keep  lookin'  for  night  and  day,  is  a  chance 


264  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

to  lift  something  when  nobody's  lookin*.  That's  all 
they're  thinkin'  about  while  they're  in  the  pen,  and 
God  knows  they're  as  sober  as  judges  all  the  time  they're 
there.  Crime  is  crime  and  you  can't  always  lay  it  to 
booze.  It's  human  nature  with  some  people.  I'm  not 
sayin'  the  world  wouldn't  be  better  off  if  there  wasn't 
any  licker  to  drink.  It  stands  to  reason  that  there 
wouldn't  be  half  so  much  bunglin'  if  people  kept  sober, 
— 'specially  when  it  comes  to  crime.  Now,  if  this  guy 
Sancho  had  had  a  couple  of  pints  in  him,  everybody 
would  be  going  around  preachin'  about  the  horrible 
effects  of  booze,  and  —  What  say  ?  " 

"  I  said  you  make  me  tired,"  said  Buck  Chizler,  re 
peating  his  remark.  "  I  never  did  anything  wrong  in 
my  life  except  when  I  was  half-soused." 

"  Sure,"  agreed  Soapy.  "  But  you'd  have  done  it 
right  if  you'd  been  sober,  my  boy.  That's  the  prin 
cipal  trouble  with  booze.  It  never  gives  a  feller  a 
chance  to  do  anything  right."  Whereupon,  with  a  slow 
wink  for  the  other  members  of  the  group,  he  arose  and 
passed  out  into  the  night. 

"  I  can't  make  that  feller  out,"  grumbled  Buck,  un 
comfortably. 

Easter  Sunday  was  bright  and  clear,  following  a 
fortnight  of  cold,  penetrating  winds  and  rain.  The 
sun  smiled,  but  it  was  a  cold  smile  that  mocked  rather 
than  cheered.  The  sky  was  the  colour  of  thin,  trans 
parent  ice ;  the  vast  white  dome  was  unspotted  by  a 
single  cloud;  the  rose  tints  of  early  morn,  frightened 
away  at  birth  by  the  chill,  unfeeling  glare,  took  with 
them  every  promise  of  tenderness  that  dawned  with  the 
new  day.  But,  though  the  sky  was  hard,  the  air  was 
soft ;  the  tang  of  the  salt-sea  spice  lay  over  everything. 

Percival  had  no  active  part  in  the  exercises  arranged 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  265 

by  Ruth.  The  song  service  was  held  in  the  open.  A 
platform  had  been  erected  in  front  of  the  "  tabernacle  " 
(the  meeting-house  on  occasion)  for  the  choir  and  musi 
cians.  There  were  no  seats  for  the  congregation. 
Every  one  stood,  bareheaded,  in  a  wide  semi-circle  fac 
ing  the  platform.  The  "  boss  "  took  his  place  incon 
spicuously  among  those  who  formed  the  outer  fringe 
of  the  assemblage.  His  gaze  seldom  left  the  face  of 
the  girl  he  loved.  Once  her  eyes  met  his.  She  was  on 
the  platform  discussing  arrangements  with  the  two 
clergymen  when  her  roving,  unsettled  gaze  chanced  to 
fall  upon  him.  For  many  seconds  she  stared  at  him 
fixedly, —  so  fixedly,  in  fact,  that  Father  Francisco, 
after  a  moment,  shot  a  look  in  the  same  direction. 
Even  from  his  far-off  post,  Percival  saw  the  colour 
mount  to  her  cheeks  as  she  hastily  turned  away  to 
resume  the  conversation  that  had  been  so  incontinently 
broken  off.  She  was  bare-headed.  He  had  been  watch 
ing  the  sun  at  play  among  the  coils  of  her  soft,  dark 
hair, —  a  glint  here  as  of  bronze,  a  gleam  there  as  of 
gold,  ever  changing  under  the  caresses  of  that  flaming 
lover  a  hundred  million  miles  away. 

The  affable  Mr.  Nicklestick  was  standing  beside  Per 
cival,  carrying  on  a  more  or  less  one-sided  conversa 
tion. 

"  You  see,  it's  this  way,"  he  was  saying,,  contriving 
to  reduce  his  far-reaching  voice  to  a  moderate  under 
tone  ;  "  I'm  not  in  the  habit  of  attending  Easter  serv 
ices.  I'm  not  opposed  to  them,  believe  me,  A.  A., — 
not  in  the  slightest.  Now  at  home  in  New  York,  I 
make  it  a  habit  to  walk  from  the  Metropolitan  Museum 
down  to  the  Valdorf- Astoria  regularly  every  Easter. 
Between  eleven  and  twelve-thirty.  You  get  them  going 
into  certain  churches  and  you  get  them  coming  out  of 


266  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

others,  don't  you  see?  Oh,  vat  would  I  give  to  be  on 
Fif '  Avenue  at  this  minute,  A.  A. !  A  hundred  thou 
sand  dollars, —  gladly,  villingly, —  yes,  two  hundred 
thousand !  I  vonder  vat  things  are  like  on  Fif  Avenue 
now, —  at  this  minute,  I  mean.  I  vonder  what  the 
vimmin  are  wearing  this  season.  My  God,  don't  you 
vish  you  were  on  Fif  Avenue,  A.  A.  ?  " 

"What?" 

"  I  say  don't  you  vish  you  were  on  Fif  Avenue 
now?" 

"  No,  I  don't,"  gruffly. 

"You  — you  don't?"  gasped  Nicldestick.  "My 
God,  where  do  you  wish  you  were  ?  " 

"  Over  in  France, —  or  better  still,  in  Germany, — 
that's  where  I'd  like  to  be.  Keep  still !  Can't  you  see 
Careni-Amori  is  singing?  " 

Nicklestick  was  silent  for  two  minutes.  Then  he 
volunteered :  "  Do  you  know  what  that  song  vould 
cost  if  she  vas  to  give  it  in  the  Metropolitan  Opera 
House,  A.  A.?  A  thousand  dollars,  von  thousand  si- 
moleons.  And  we  get  it  for  nothing.  It  ain't  pos 
sible  to  realize  that  you  can  get  something  for  nothing 
in  these  days,  is  it?  I  vas  saying  to  Morrie  Shine 
only  this  morning  that  — " 

"  Sh !  "  hissed  an  exasperated  Brazilian  in  front  of 
them. 

"  I  guess  ve  better  not  talk  any  more,  A.  A.,"  said 
Nicklestick,  deprecatingly.  Presently  he  leaned  close 
to  Percival's  ear  and  whispered :  "  Miss  Clinton  is 
looking  very  fine  today,  isn't  she?  "  Receiving  no  re 
ply,  he  waited  a  moment  and  then  went  on :  "  Land- 
over  is  a  very  lucky  dog.,  eh  ?  "  Failing  again,  he  was 
silent  for  some  time.  His  next  effort  was  along  a  to 
tally  different  line.  "  I've  been  feeling  some  of  the 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  267 

people  out  in  regard  to  the  election  next  week.  I  think 
it's  a  great  idea.  You" got  a  cinch,  A.  A.  Nobody 
vants  anybody  but  you  for  governor.  What  seems  to 
be—" 

"  Sh !  " 

"  Oh,  you  go  to  the  devil !  "  addressed  the  exasperated 
Mr.  Nicklestick  to  the  Brazilian.  "  Ain't  we  got  free 
dom  of  speech  here  on  this  island?  Yell,  then!  What 
seems  to  be  troubling  most  every  one,  A.  A.,  is  who  is 
the  best  man  for  clerk.  Nobody  vants  to  be  treasurer, 
for  why  ?  Because  there  ain't  anything  to  be  treasurer 
about.  Say,  where  are  you  going?  " 

"  Nowhere,"  replied  Percival,  as  he  strode  away. 

Over  against  the  line  of  trees  on  the  opposite  side  of 
the  wheat  field  still  loomed  the  gibbet  from  which 
Sancho  Mendez  and  Domi  ic  had  stepped  blindfolded 
into  another  and  darker  orld.  While  Pastor  Mac 
kenzie,  leading  up  to  the  gi  rious  resurrection,  was  re 
peating  the  story  of  the  Crucifixion,  Ruth  Clinton, 
sitting  behind  him  on  the  platform,  stared  wide-eyed 
at  this  gaunt  object,  and  she  saw  not  Christ  on  the 
Cross  but  the  spectre  of  Sancho  Mendez  falling  off 
into  darkness.  Percival's  gaze  followed  hers,  and  his 
heart  smote  him, —  for  it  was  he  who  had  demanded 
that  the  gruesome  reminder  be  left  standing  as  a  warn 
ing  to  carrion.  And  he  had  laughed  when  Peter  Snipe 
christened  it  "  the  scarecrow !  " 

"  Leave  it  standing,  A.  A.,"  Peter  had  said,  "  and 
you  can  bet  your  boots  no  jailbird  will  ever  roost  on 
it  if  he  thinks  twice.  And  it's  just  that  sort  of  thing 
that  makes  a  man  think  twice." 

But  the  look  of  dread  in  the  eyes  of  this  girl  who 
could  do  no  wrong,  and  yet  was  to  be  everlastingly  tor 
tured  by  the  sight  of  the  thing  that  stood  as  a  silent 


268  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

accuser  of  all  who  looked,  was  more  than  Percival  could 
stand.  Easter  Sunday, —  and  that  gibbet  pointing  its 
long  arm  toward  the  little  flock  in  the  shadow  of  sanc 
tuary, —  mocking  the  good  as  it  beckoned  to  the  bad, — 
Easter  Sunday  and  that! 

He  stole  quietly  away,  circling  the  edge  of  the  crowd, 
his  head  bent,  his  teeth  set.  Just  as  he  was  about  to 
pass  from  view  around  the  corner  of  the  "  tabernacle," 
he  cast  a  quick  glance  at  the  girl  on  the  platform. 
Their  eyes  met  again.  She  turned  her  head  quickly, 
but  he  was  certain  that  she  had  followed  his  movements 
from  the  beginning. 


CHAPTER  X 

TOWARD  the  close  of  the  exercises,  the  congre 
gation  was  startled  by  the  sound  of  an  ax 
smiting  wood.     The  blows  were  rapid  and  vig 
orous.     The  surprised  people  looked  at  each  other  first 
in  wonder  and  then  in  consternation.     Who  was  guilty 
of  this  unseemly  sacrilege? 

Finally  those  on  the  edge  of  the  multitude  discov 
ered  the  wielder  of  the  ax.  Some  one,  not  easily  recog 
nizable,  was  chopping  away  the  supports  of  the  scaffold. 
The  crowd  grew  restless;  angry  mutterings  were  to  be 
heard  on  all  sides.  E.very  eye  was  turned  from  the 
platform  to  glare  at  the  lone  chopper  across  the  fal 
low  field. 

Madame  Careni-Amori,  who  was  about  to  begin  her 
second  song,  looked  helplessly  at  Ruth  Clinton. 

Ruth  had  recognized  the  man  at  once.  At  first  she 
was  annoyed,  then  there  surged  over  her  a  great,  up 
lifting  thrill  of  exaltation.  She  stepped  quickly  to  the 
front  and,  raising  her  clear  young  voice,  reclaimed  the 
wandering  attention  of  the  throng. 

"  Please  be  quiet.  Madame  Careni-Amori  is  to  sing 
for  us  once  more.  Mr.  Percival  is  knocking  down  that 
horrible  thing  over  there.  It  is  right  that  he  should. 
We  do  not  need  it  there  as  a  warning.  Mr.  Percival 
has  had  a  change  of  heart.  He  has  been  moved, —  tre 
mendously  moved, —  by  what  he  has  seen  in  your  faces 
today.  That  is  why  he  is  over  there  now  hacking  down 
that  dreadful  thing.  It  is  the  skeleton  at  our  feast. 
We  were  conscious  of  its  presence  all  the  time.  He  is 


270  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

over  there  all  by  himself  cutting  it  down  so  that  our 
hearts  may  be  lighter,  so  thai  this  glad  hour  may  end 
without  its  curse.  Please  remain  where  you  are.  He 
requires  no  assistance.  He  —  prefers  to  do  it  all  alone. 
And  now,  if  you  will  all  give  attention,  Madame  Careni- 
Amori  will  sing  for  us." 

Careni-Amori  lifted  up  her  glorious  voice  in  song. 
The  rhythmic  beat  of  the  ax  went  on  unceasingly ;  the 
powerful  arms  and  shoulders  of  the  destroyer  were  be 
hind  every  frenzied  blow.  As  the  last  notes  of  the 
song  died  away,  there  came  the  sound  of  splintering 
wood,  then  a  dull  crash,  and  the  gibbet  lay  flat  upon 
the  ground.  Some  one  uttered  an  involuntary  shout. 
As  Percival  turned  from  his  completed  work  and  wiped 
the  sweat  from  his  brow  with  his  bare  forearm,  he  found 
the  gaze  of  the  entire  company  fastened  upon  him. 
Then  there  came  to  his  ears  the  clapping  of  hands, 
then  the  shrill  clamour  of  voices  raised  in  approbation. 
Swinging  the  ax  on  high,  he  buried  its  blade  deep  in 
the  fallen  timber  and  left  it  imbedded  there.  Snatch 
ing  up  his  coat  from  a  nearby  stump,  he  waved  his 
hand  to  the  crowd  and  then,  whirling,  was  quickly  lost 
among  the  trees  that  lined  the  shore. 

Landover  walked  beside  the  thoughtful  Ruth  as  she 
crossed  the  Green  on  her  way  home.  He  studied  her 
lovely  profile  out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye.  As  they 
drew  away  from  the  dispersing  throng,  he  spoke  to 
her. 

"  If  money  were  of  any  value  here  in  this  God 
forsaken  spot,  I  would  offer  considerably  more  than  a 
penny  for  your  thoughts,  Ruth." 

She  started  slightly.  "  You  couldn't  buy  them,  Mr. 
Landover.  They  are  not  for  sale  at  any  price." 

"  I  suppose  there  is  no  harm  in  venturing  a  guess, 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

however.     You  will  give  me   one  guess,   won't  you?" 

"  All  the  guesses  you  like, —  free  of  charge,"  she  re 
joined  airily. 

"  You  are  trying  to  decide  whether  or  not  it  was  all 
done  for  effect." 

She  smiled  mysteriously,  looking  straight  ahead. 
Her  eyes  were  very  bright. 

66  You  are  wrong.  I  was  thinking  about  hats,  Mr. 
Landover.  Don't  you  know  that  every  woman's 
thoughts  run  to  hats  on  Easter?  " 

"  I  confess  I  had  a  better  opinion  of  him,"  he  said, 
disregarding  her  flippancy.  "  I  don't  like  him,  but 
I've  never  suspected  him  of  being  a  stupid  ass  be 
fore." 

"  Of  whom  are  you  speaking  ?  "  she  inquired,  sud 
denly  looking  him  full  in  the  eye. 

"  Our  mutual  friend,  the  enemy,"  he  replied. 

"Mr.  Percival?" 

«  Certainly." 

"  But  I  thought  he  was  beneath  our  notice." 

"  We  can't  very  well  help  noticing  him  when  he  goes 
to  such  extreme  lengths  to  attract  attention." 

"  You  think  he  did  it  to  attract  attention?  " 

"  Not  so  much  that,  perhaps,  as  to  get  back  into  the 
lime-light.  You  see,  he  was  rather  out  of  it  for  as 
much  as  half  an  hour,  and  he  simply  couldn't  stand  it. 
So  he  went  off  and  staged  a  little  sideshow  of  his 
own." 

She  walked  on  in  silence  for  a  few  moments,  torn  by 
doubts  and  misgivings.  Landover's  sarcastic  analysis 
was  like  a  douche  of  cold  water.  Perhaps  he  was  right. 
It  had  been  a  spectacular,  not  to  say  diverting,  exhibi 
tion.  Her  eyes  darkened.  An  expression  of  pain 
lurked  in  them. 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

"  I  can't  believe  it  of  him,  Mr.  Landover,"  she  said 
at  last,  in  a  slightly  muffled  voice. 

"  I  thought  it  was  understood  you  were  to  call  me 
Abel,  my  dear." 

"  If  he  did  it  deliberately, —  and  with  that  motive, — 
it  was  unspeakable,"  she  went  on,  a  faint  furrow  ap 
pearing  between  her  eyes. 

"  Of  course,  I  may  be  wrong,"  said  he  magnani 
mously.  "  It  may  have  been  the  result  of  an  honest, 
uncontrollable  impulse.  But  I  doubt  it." 

"  Men  do  queer,  strange  things  when  under  the  in 
fluence  of  a  strong  emotion,"  she  said,  a  hopeful  note  in 
her  voice. 

"  True.  They  are  also  capable  of  doing  very  base 
things.  You  don't  for  an  instant  suspect  Percival  of 
being  a  religious  fanatic,  do  you?  " 

"  Please  don't  sneer.  And  what,  pray,  has  religion 
to  do  with  it?" 

"  I  dare  say  Morris  Shine  is  again  lamenting  the 
absence  of  a  motion  picture  camera.  He  is  always 
complaining  about  the  chances  he  has  missed  to  — " 

"  Stop !  " 

"  Why,  Ruth  dear,  I  — " 

"  We  have  no  right  to  judge  him,  Mr.  Landover." 

"Are  you  defending  him?" 

"  I  don't  believe  he  had  the  faintest  notion  that  he 
was  being  —  theatrical,  as  you  call  it.  I  am  sure  he 
did  it  because  he  was  moved  by  an  overpowering  desire 
to  make  all  of  us  happy.  He  couldn't  bear  the  thought 
of  that  evil  thing  out  there,  pointing  at  us  while  we 
worshipped  and  tried  to  sing  with  gladness  in  our 
hearts.  No !  He  did  it  for  you,  and  for  me,  and  for 
all  the  rest  of  us, —  and  he  made  every  heart  lighter 
when  that  thing  toppled  over  and  fell.  Did  you  not 


WEST  WINYD  DRIFT 

see  the  change  that  came  over  every  one  when  they 
realized  that  it  was  destroyed?  There  were  smiles  on 
every  face,  and  every  voice  was  cheerful.  The  look  of 
uneasy  dread  was  gone  —  Oh,  you  must  have  seen." 

"  I  can  only  say  that  it  ought  to  have  been  done  be 
fore,  Ruth, —  not  during  the  exercises." 

"  It  was  his  way  of  publicly  admitting  he  was  wrong 
in  insisting  that  it  should  remain." 

"  He  had  his  way  with  that  weak-kneed  committee, 
as  usual.  The  tactics  of  that  Copperhead  Camp  he 
talks  so  much  about  are  hardly  applicable  to  condi 
tions  here.  We  are  not  law-defying  ruffians,  you  know, 
—  and  these  are  women  of  quite  another  order." 

"  No  one, —  not  even  you,  Mr.  Landover, —  can  say 
that  he  has  been  anything  but  kind  and  considerate  and 
sympathetic,"  she  flashed.  "  He  is  firm, —  but  isn't 
that  what  we  want?  And  the  people  worship  him, — 
they  will  do  anything  for  him.  Even  Manuel  Crust  re 
spects  him, —  and  obeys  him.  And  you,  down  in  your 
heart,  respect  him.  He  is  your  kind  of  a  man,  Mr. 
Landover.  He  does  things.  He  is  like  Theodore 
Roosevelt.  He  does  things." 

Landover  smiled  grimly.  "  Perhaps  that  is  why  I 
dislike  him." 

"  Because  he  is  like  Roosevelt  ?  " 

"  My  dear,  let's  not  start  an  argument  about  Roose 
velt." 

"  Just  the  same,  I've  heard  you  say  over  and  over 
again  that  you  wish  Roosevelt  were  President  now," 
she  persisted.  "  Why  do  you  say  that  if  you  are  so 
down  on  him  ?  " 

Landover  shrugged  his  shoulders  expressively. 

"  I  can  wish  that,  my  dear,  and  still  not  be  an  ad 
mirer  of  Mr.  Roosevelt,"  he  replied.  "  But  to  return 


274  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

to  Percival,  isn't  it  quite  plain  to  you  that  he  was 
pouting  like  a  schoolboy  because  he  had  not  been  asked 
to  take  part  in  today's  exercises  ?  " 

"  He  was  asked  to  take  part  in  them.  I  asked  him 
myself." 

He  glanced  at  her  sharply.  "  You  never  told  me 
you  had  asked  him,  Ruth." 

"  The  night  the  crime  was  committed,"  she  said 
briefly.  "  He  was  very  nice  about  it.  He  promised 
to  sing  in  the  choir  and  —  aiid  to  help  me  with  the 
decorations.  After  our  unpleasant  experience  the  next 
day,  he  had  the  —  shall  we  say  tact  or  kindness?  —  to 
reconsider  his  promise." 

"  Openly  advertising  the  fact  that  he  preferred  to 
have  no  part  in  any  entertainment  you  were  arrang 
ing,"  was  Landover's  comment.  "  I  don't  believe  it 
was  because  of  any  particular  delicacy  of  feeling  on 
his  part,  my  dear.  In  any  case,  the  fact  remains 
that  he  let  you  go  ahead  with  the  affair,  and  then, 
bang!  right  in  the  middle  of  it  he  stages  his  cheap, 
melodramatic,  moving-picture  act.  Bosh  !  " 

She  turned  on  him  with  blazing  eyes. 

"  You  will  not  see  anything  good  in  him,  will  you  ? 
You  can't  be  fair,  can  you  ?  Well,  I  can  be, —  and  I 
am.  He  has  been  fair  with  both  of  us, —  and  I  am 
ashamed  of  the  way  I  have  treated  him.  We  deserved 
his  rebuke  that  morning,  and  he  did  not  hesitate  to 
turn  us  back, —  although  he  realized  what  it  would 
mean.  He  loves  me,  Abel  Landover, —  he  loves  me  a 
thousand  times  more  than  you  do,  in  spite  of  all  your 
protestations.  He  — " 

"  Why,  Ruth,—  I  —  I  — " 

"  Yes, —  I  know, —  I  know  you  are  shocked.  And  I 
don't  care, —  do  you  understand?  I  don't  care  that! 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  275 

You  want  your  answer,  Mr.  Landover.  Well,  you  shall 
have  it  now.  I  cannot  marry  you.  This  is  final." 

The  blood  left  his  face.  "  You  don't  know  what  you 
are  saying,  Ruth,"  he  exclaimed.  "  You  are  angry. 
When  you  have  had  time  to  — " 

"  I've  had  all  the  time  I  need,"  she  interrupted 
shortly.  "  I  don't  want  to  be  disagreeable, —  but  it's 
no  use,  Mr.  Landover.  I  do  not  love  you.  I  am  sorry 
if  I  have  misled  you  into  hoping.  There  is  nothing 
more  to  be  said." 

"  You  have  misled  me,"  he  cried  out  bitterly. 

"  I  am  to  blame,  I  suppose,  for  not  giving  you  your 
answer  before  this.  I  have  temporized.  It  is  a  wom 
an's  trick, —  and  a  horrid  one,  I'll  admit.  I  have  never 
even  thought  of  marrying  you." 

"  Are  you  in  love  with  Percival?  "  he  demanded. 

"  Yes, —  I  think  I  am,"  she  replied,  looking  him 
straight  in  the  eye.  She  spoke  with  a  sort  of  gasp, 
as  if  releasing  a  confession  that  surprised  even  her 
self. 

"  My  God,  Ruth, —  I  can't  believe  it,"  he  groaned. 

"  I  have  denied  it  to  myself  —  oh,  a  thousand  times, 
—  I've  fought  against  it.  I've  tried  to  hate  him.  I've 
done  everything  in  my  power  to  make  him  believe  that 
I  despise  him.  But  it's  no  use, —  it's  no  use.  I  —  I 
can't  think  of  anything  else.  I  can't  think  of  any  one 
else.  Oh,  I  know  I  am  quite  mad  to  say  this,  but  I 
sometimes  find  myself  praying  that  we  may  never  be 
rescued.  It  might  mean  —  well,  you  can  see  what  it 
might  mean.  Thank  God,  you  have  driven  me  to  this 
confession.  It  is  the  first  time  I  have  been  really  hon 
est  with  myself.  I  have  lied  to  myself  over  and  over 
again  about  my  feeling  toward  him.  I  have  lain  awake 
for  hours  at  night  lying  to  myself  —  telling  myself  that 


276  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

I  hate  him  and  always  will  hate  him.  Now,  it's  out, — 
the  truth  is  out.  I  have  never  hated  him, —  I  have 
cared  for  him  from  the  very  beginning." 

She  spoke  rapidly,  the  words  rushing  forth  like  a 
flood  suddenly  released  after  breaking  through  the  dam, 
sweeping  everything  before  it, —  resistless,  devastating, 
cruelly  rapturous.  She  thought  nothing  of  the  hurt 
she  was  inflicting  upon  the  man  beside  her ;  he  was  an 
atom  in  the  path  of  the  torrent,  a  thing  that  went  down 
and  was  left  behind  as  the  flood  swept  over  and  by  him. 
As  suddenly  as  it  began  the  torrent  was  checked.  A 
hot  flush  seared  her  neck,  her  cheeks,  her  brow. 

"  What  a  fool  you  must  think  me !  "  she  cried  in  dire 
chagrin.  "  What  a  stupid  fool !  " 

He  had  not  taken  his  eyes  from  her  transfigured  face. 
He  had  listened  with  his  j  aw  set,  his  lips  tightly  pressed, 
his  brow  dark  with  anger. 

"  I  don't  think  that,"  he  said  shortly.  "  You  have 
merely  lost  your  head,  as  any  woman  might,  over  a 
picturesque,  good-looking  soldier  of  fortune.  Perhaps 
I  should  not  be  surprised,  nor  even  shocked  by  what 
you've  just  told  me.  He  is  the  sort  that  women  do 
fall  in  love  with, —  and  I  suppose  they  are  not  to  be 
blamed  for  it.  No,  I  do  not  think  you  are  a  fool. 
When  one  reflects  that  such  experienced  heads  as  those 
possessed  by  the  irreproachable  Obosky,  the  immacu 
late  Amori, —  to  say  nothing  of  the  estimable  lady  we 
are  pleased  to  call  the  i  Empress  of  Brazil,' —  when  such 
heads  as  theirs  are  turned  by  a  man  it  is  high  time 
to  admit  that  he  has  something  more  than  personal 
magnetism.  I  am  wondering  how  far  the  contagion 
has  really  spread.  There  is  a  difference  between  con 
tagion  and  infection,  you  know.  Infection  is  the  re 
sult  of  personal  contact, —  contagion  is  something  in 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  277 

the  air.  This  epidemic  of  infatuation  very  plainly  is 
in  two  forms.  It  appears  to  be  both  infectious  and 
contagious.  I  rather  fancy  the  amiable  Obosky  has 
selected  the  former  type  of  the  prevailing  malady. 
Percivalitis,  I  believe,  is  the  name  it  goes  by." 

There  was  no  mistaking  the  significance  of  his  words. 
The  implication  was  clear,  even  though  veiled  in  the 
heaviest  sarcasm.  He  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing 
the  colour  ebb  from  her  cheek.  Her  face  being  averted, 
he  missed  the  swift  flicker  of  pain  that  rushed  to  her 
eyes  and,  departing,  took  away  with  it  the  soft  light 
that  had  glowed  in  them  the  instant  before.  He  had 
touched  a  concealed  canker, —  the  sensitive  spot  that 
had  been  the  real  cause  of  her  sleepless,  troubled  nights, 
—  the  thing  she  had  refused  in  her  pride  to  accept  as 
the  real  source  of  discomfort. 

Down  in  her  soul  lay  the  poison  of  jealousy?  a  cruel 
and  malignant  influence  that  until  now  had  been  sub 
dued  by  a  mind  stubbornly  unwilling  to  recognize  its 
existence. 

In  the  eagerness  to  supply  herself  with  additional 
reasons  for  hating  Percival,  she  had  given  her  imagina 
tion  a  rather  free  rein  in  regard  to  his  relations  with 
Olga  Obosky.  While  she  was  without  actual  proof, 
she  nevertheless  tortured  herself  with  suspicions  that 
c-ame  almost  to  the  same  thing;  in  any  case,  they  had 
the  desired  effect  in  that  they  created  a  very  positive 
sense  of  irritation,  and  nothing  seemed  to  please  her 
more  in  the  dead  hour  of  night  than  the  feeling  that  she 
had  a  right  to  be  disgusted  with  him. 

And  now,  Landover,  in  his  sly  arraignment,  prodded 
a  very  live,  raw  spot,  and  she  knew  that  it  was  bleak 
unhappiness  and  not  rancour  that  had  kept  her  awake. 

"  Is  it  necessary  to  beat  about  the  bush,  Mr.  Land- 


£78  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

over?  If  you  have  anything  definite  to  tell  me  about 
Mr.  Percival  and  Madame  Obosky,  I  grant  you  permis 
sion  to  say  all  you  have  to  say  in  the  plainest  language. 
Call  a  spade  a  spade.  I  am  quite  old  enough  to  hear 
things  called  by  their  right  names." 

"  Since  you  have  been  so  quick  to  get  my  meaning, 
I  don't  consider  it  necessary  to  go  into  details.  I  dare 
say  you  have  ears  and  eyes  of  your  own.  You  can  see 
and  hear  as  well  as  I, —  unless  you  are  resolved  to  be 
both  blind  and  deaf." 

"  Did  you  not  hear  me  say  that  I  know  he  loves 
me?" 

"  Yes, —  I  heard  you  quite  distinctly." 

"  As  a  rule,  do  men  love  two  women  at  the  same 
time?  "  she  inquired,  patiently. 

"  I  have  never  said  that  he  loves  Obosky.  It  is 
barely  possible,  however,  that  he  may  not  choose  to 
resist  her, —  if  that  conveys  anything  to  your  intelli 
gence." 

"  It  does  and  it  does  not,"  she  replied  steadily. 
"  You  see,  I  believe  in  him.  I  trust  him." 

"  And  I  suppose  you  trust  Olga  Obosky,"  he  said, 
with  a  sneer. 

"  I  understand  Olga  Obosky  far  better  than  you  do, 
Mr.  Landover." 

"  I  doubt  it,"  said  he  drily. 

"  She  is  my  friend." 

"  Ah !  That  measurably  simplifies  the  situation. 
She  will  no  doubt  prove  her  friendship  by  delivering 
Mr.  Percival  to  you,  slightly  damaged  but  guaranteed 
to—" 

"  Please  be  good  enough  to  remember,  Mr.  Land- 
over,  that  you  are  not  speaking  to  Manuel  Crust,"  she 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  279 

exclaimed  haughtily,  and,  with  flaming  cheeks,  swept 
past  him. 

He  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then  started  to  follow 
her.  She  stopped  short  and,  facing  him,  cried  out: 
"  Don't  follow  me !  I  do  not  want  to  hear  another 
word.  Stop !  I  can  see  by  your  eyes  that  you  are 
ashamed, —  you  want  to  apologize.  I  do  not  want  to 
hear  it.  I  am  hurt, —  terribh7  hurt.  Nothing  you  can 
say  will  help  matters  now,  Mr.  Landover." 

"  Just  a  second,  Ruth,"  he  cried,  now  thoroughly 
dismayed.  "  Give  me  a  chance  to  explain.  It  was  my 
mad,  unreasoning  love  that  — " 

But,  with  an  exclamation  of  sheer  disgust,  she  put 
her  fingers  to  her  ears  and  sped  rapidly  down  the  walk. 
He  stood  still,  watching  her  until  she  entered  the  cabin 
door  and  closed  it  behind  her.  Then  he  completed  the 
broken  sentence,  but  not  in  the  voice  of  humility  nor 
with  the  words  that  he  had  intended  to  utter. 


CHAPTER  XI 

OAPY  "  SHAY,  coming  up  the  walk,  distinctly 
heard  what  he  said. 

"  What's  the  matter,  Bill?  "  he  inquired,  paus 
ing.     "  Did  she  throw  the  hooks  into  you  ?  " 

Landover  glared  at  him  balefully.  "  You  go  to  hell, 
damn  you,"  he  snarled,  and  walked  away. 

"  Soapy  "  rubbed  his  chin  dubiously  as  he  watched 
the  retreating  figure.  Pursing  his  thin  lips,  he  turned 
his  attention  to  an  unoffending  stump  six  or  eight  feet 
away  and  scowled  at  it  vindictively.  He  was  turning 
something  over  in  his  mind,  and  he  was  manifestly  in  a 
state  of  indecision.  Ruminating,  he  spoke  aloud,  per 
haps  for  the  benefit  of  a  Portuguese  farm-hand  who 
happened  to  be  approaching  from  the  opposite  direc 
tion,  but  who  still  had  some  rods  to  cover  before  he  was 
within  hearing  distance. 

"  Gee,  he's  getting  to  be  as  decent  and  democratic  as 
any  of  us.  Shows  what  association  will  do  for  a  man. 
Two  months  ago  he  would  have  been  too  high  and 
mighty  to  tell  me  to  go  to  hell.  If  he  keeps  on  at  this 
rate,  he'll  be  worth  payin'  attention  to  in  a  couple  of 
months  more.  Won't  he,  Bill?"  This  to  the  farm 
hand,  who  obligingly  halted. 

Mr.  Shay  made  constant  and  impartial  use  of  the 
name  Bill.  Except  in  a  very  few  instances,  he  applied 
it  to  all  males  over  the  age  of  two,  and  he  did  it  so 
genially  that  resentment  was  rare.  Americans,  Bri 
tons,  Irishmen,  Portuguese,  Spaniards,  Indians,  Swedes, 
—  all  races,  in  fact,  except  the  Hebrew, —  came  under 

280 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  281 

the  sweeping  appellation.  His  Hebrew  acquaintances 
were  addressed  by  the  name  of  Ike. 

It  so  happened  that  this  particular  "  Bill "  was  la 
mentably  slow  in  picking  up  the  English  language. 
It  was  even  said  that  he  prided  himself  on  being  half 
witted.  However,  being  an  exceedingly  dull  creature, 
he  was  quite  naturally  a  polite  one.  He  was  a  good 
listener.  You  could  speak  English  to  him  by  the  hour 
and  never  be  annoyed  by  verbal  interruptions.  At 
regular  intervals  he  would  insert  a  shrug  of  the  shoul 
ders,  or  nod  his  head,  or  lift  an  eye-brow,  or  spread 
out  his  hands,  or  purse  his  lips, —  and  he  never  smiled 
unless  you  did. 

Perceiving  that  some  sort  of  an  answer  was  expected, 
"  Bill  "  wisely  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  Soapy  "  in 
terpreted  the  shrug  as  affirmative, —  having  a  distinct 
advantage  over  "  Bill,"  who  hadn't  the  faintest  idea 
which  it  was, —  and  proceeded  to  go  a  little  deeper 
into  the  matter. 

"  Now,  as  I  was  saying,  this  Landover  guy  is  up 
against  something,  Bill.  She  handed  him  something  he 
didn't  like.  Right  on  the  nose,  too,  if  I'm  any  judge. 
What  do  you  suppose  it  was,  Bill?  " 

"  Bill "  nodded  his  head  very  earnestly. 

"That's  what  I  think,"  said  "Soapy,"  fixing  his 
hearer  with  a  moody,  speculative  frown.  "  Now,  I 
know  something  about  this  Landover  guy  that  she 
don't  know.  I  suppose  A.  A.  will  give  me  an  awful 
panning  if  I  up  and  tell  her  what  I  saw  that  day.  He 
seems  to  think  it's  a  secret." 

There  was  a  slight  pause,  suggesting  to  "  Bill "  that 
he  ought  to  frown  as  if  also  in  doubt. 

"  At  the  same  time,  I  think  she  ought  to  be  told, 
don't  you,  Bill?  " 


282  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

This  called  for  something  definite.  So  Bill  scratched 
his  left  ear. 

"  In  the  first  place,  she's  too  nice  a  girl  to  be  hitched 
up  with  a  Priscilla  like  him.  Now,  I  don't  know  what 
happened  here  a  couple  of  minutes  ago,  but  it  looks 
to  me  as  if  she  needs  a  little  moral  support.  It  strikes 
me  that  this  would  be  a  good  time  to  tell  her.  What 
do  you  think  about  it,  Bill?  " 

Always  on  the  lookout  for  rising  inflections,  "  Bill  " 
was  ever  in  a  position  to  give  prompt  replies.  He  could 
dispose  of  the  most  profound  questions  almost  before 
they  were  out  of  the  speaker's  mouth.  His  answer  to 
"  Soapy's  "  query  was  a  broad  grin, —  for  he  had  de 
tected  a  sly  twinkle  in  the  speaker's  eye.  He  also 
shrugged  his  shoulders  and  spread  out  his  hands, —  and, 
to  clinch  the  matter,  he  winked. 

"  Now,  I  don't  want  to  take  this  important  step  with 
out  being  backed-up  by  some  clever,  intelligent  feller 
like  you,  Bill,"  went  on  "  Soapy."  "  It's  all  for  her 
good, —  and  A.  A.'s,  too,  although  he  won't  see  it  in 
that  light.  If  you  say  you  think  she  ought  to  be  told, 
that's  enough  for  me.  If  you  say  she  oughtn't, —  why, 
nothing  doing.  It's  up  to  you,  Bill." 

"  Bill  "  was  plainly  at  sea.  You  can't  decide  a  ques 
tion  that  lacks  an  interrogation  point.  So  all  that 
"  Bill  "  could  do  was  to  stare  blankly  at  "  Soapy  " 
and  wait  for  something  tangible  to  turn  up.  Mr.  Shay 
suddenly  appreciated  the  poor  fellow's  dilemma  and 
supplied  the  necessary  relief. 

"What  say,  Bill?" 

Whereupon  "  Bill "  started  to  shake  his  head,  but, 
catching  the  scowl  of  disapproval  on  "  Soapy's  "  brow, 
hastily  changed  his  reply  to  a  vigorous  nod. 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  283 

"  Good !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Shay.  "  That  completely 
clears  my  conscience.  So  long,  Bill." 

And  half  a  minute  later  he  presented  himself  at  Ruth 
Clinton's  cabin. 

"  Goodness !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Spofford,  as  she  opened 
the  door.  She  also  opened  her  eyes  very  wide,  and  sent 
a  startled,  apprehensive  glance  over  her  shoulder  into 
the  warm,  fire-lit  interior.  "What  do  you  want?" 
she  demanded  querulously  of  the  unexpected  visitor. 

Mr.  Shay  took  off  his  hat.  "  I'd  like  a  few  words 
with  Miss  Clinton,"  he  said.  "  I  saw  her  come  in,  so 
she's  not  out.  It's  important,  ma'am.  She  will  hear 
something  to  her  advantage,  as  they  say  in  the  per 
sonals." 

"  Will  you  please  return  at  three  o'clock,  Mr.  Shay  ? 
My  niece  is  resting  after  the  arduous  labours  of  the  — " 

"  I  dassent  wait,"  said  "  Soapy,"  with  a  furtive 
glance  over  his  shoulder.  "  If  he  sees  me,  I'll  probably 
have  to  change  my  mind." 

"  Who  is  it,  Auntie  ?  "  called  out  a  clear  voice  from 
within. 

"  '  Soapy  '  Shay,"  replied  the  visitor  himself. 

"  Mr.  Landover  will  be  here  presently,  Mr.  Shay, — " 
began  the  obstacle  in  the  doorway. 

"  I  guess  not,"  broke  in  "  Soapy,"  forgetting  himself 
so  far  as  to  wink.  "  I  expect  you  haven't  heard  the 
news,  ma'am.  He's  had  his  nose  put  out  of  joint." 

"  Good  heavens !     His  nose  out  of  — " 

"  Come  in,  Soapy,"  cried  Ruth. 

"  Ruth,  my  dear, —  do  you  know  who  —  do  you  know 
what  — " 

"  Sure  she  knows,"  again  interrupted  "  Soapy,"  un 
embarrassed.  "  I'm  not  after  anybody's  jewels,  Mrs. 


284  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

Spofford, —  and  besides  which  I  am  the  principal  candi 
date  for  Sheriff  of  this  bailiwick.  You  don't  suppose 
a  man  who's  running  for  the  office  of  sheriff  on  Mr.  A. 
A.  Percival's  ticket  is  going  to  lift  anything  before 
election,  do  you?  Besides  which  I've  made  up  my  mind 
to  be  straight  as  long  as  I'm  on  this  island,  and  if 
I'm  elected, —  which  I  will  be, —  I'm  going  to  see  that 
nobody  else  does  anything  crooked.  Mr.  A.  A.  Perci- 
val  is  a  wise  guy, —  a  mighty  wise  guy.  Says  he  to 
me,  *  Soapy,  you  are  one  of  the  most  expert  — '  " 

"  Come  inside,  Soapy,"  called  out  Ruth. 

Mr.  Shay  entered.  "  You  better  shut  the  door,  Mrs. 
Spofford,"  he  said  coolly.  "  What  I  got  to  say  is  pri 
vate.  As  I  was  saying,  A.  A.  says  to  me,  '  Soapy, 
you  are  one  of  the  craftiest  and  slipperiest  crooks  on 
this  side  of  the  Atlantic  Ocean.  What  you  don't  know 
about  crime  would  fill  a  book  about  as  thick  as  a  pos 
tage  stamp.  There's  nobody  on  this  island  more  fittin' 
to  be  an  officer  of  the  law.  You  know  everything  that 
an  officer  of  the  law  ought  to  know,  and  besides  which 
you  know  everything  that  a  thief  has  to  know.  So 
you're  going  to  be  elected  Sheriff  of  Trigger  Island.' 
That's  what  A.  A.  says  to  me,  and,  as  usual,  he's  dead 
right.  Why,  ma'am,  there  ain't  a  thief  in  the  universe 
that  can  fool  me.  I  don't  have  to  have  any  evidence, — 
not  a  grain  of  it.  All  I  got  to  do  is  to  just  ask  'em 
why  they  done  it.  But  what  I  dropped  in  to  see  you 
about,  Miss  Ruth,  is  —  Say,  you  ain't  by  any  chance 
expecting  A.  A.  to  drop  in,  are  you?  I  wouldn't  have 
him  ketch  me  here  for  — " 

"  I  am  not  expecting  Mr.  Percival,  Soapy,"  she  said, 
her  gaze  fixed  expectantly  on  the  man's  face. 

"  Well,  then,"  said  he,  "  I  got  a  little  story  to  tell 
yc5u.  It's  the  gospel  truth.  Just  try  to  forget  that 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  285 

I  used  to  be  a  crook  and  that  in  ordinary  times  I  am 
one  of  the  most  gosh-awful  liars  on  earth.  But  there's 
absolutely  no  pleasure  in  lying  nowadays,  and  as  for 
working  at  my  regular  trade,  Mrs.  Spofford,  you 
needn't  be  the  least  bit  nervous.  It  ain't  necessary  for 
you  to  set  on  that  trunk.  Take  this  chair,  please. 
Now,  you  remember  some  time  back  that  A.  A.  and  your 
friend  Landover  had  a  mix-up  in  the  last  named  gen 
tleman's  stateroom,  and  you  also  must  remember  that 
Mr.  Landover  told  you  about  it  and  that  Mr.  Percival 
never  told  you  anything  about  it.  Well,  I  was  a  wit 
ness  to  that  fracas.  I  just  happened  to  be  walking 
along  the  deck  when  something  caught  my  eye  and  I 
went  up  close  to  see  what  it  was.  You'd  never  guess 
what  it  was.  After  looking  at  it  very  carefully  I  dis 
covered  it  was  a  port-hole." 

Forsaking  his  whimsical  manner,  he  related  tersely 
in  as  few  words  as  possible  the  story  of  the  encounter. 

"  Now,  it's  my  guess  that  Mr.  Abel  Landover  didn't 
speak  the  whole  truth  and  nothing  but  the  truth 
when  he  furnished  you  with  his  version  of  the  affair. 
Am  I  right,  or  am  I  wrong?  "  he  asked,  in  conclu 
sion. 

66 1  prefer  to  believe  Mr.  Landover's  story,"  said  Mrs. 
Spofford  stiffly.  "  Will  you  be  good  enough  to  go  now, 
Mr.  Shay?" 

"  Sure,"  said  "  Soapy,"  rising.  "  I'm  not  asking 
anybody  to  take  my  word  against  his.  I'm  just  tell 
ing  you,  that's  all.  Good  afternoon,  ladies." 

66  It  was  not  Mr.  Percival  who  fired  the  shot  ?  You 
are  sure  of  that,  Soapy  ?  "  Ruth  was  standing  now. 
Her  eyes  were  very  dark  and  tempestuous. 

"  Sure  as  my  right  name  ain't  Soapy  Shay,"  re 
turned  the  witness,  holding  up  his  right  hand. 


286  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

"  Ruth,  it  isn't  possible  that  you  place  any  credence 
in—" 

"  Thank  you  for  coming,  Soapy,"  interrupted  Ruth. 
"  It  was  very  good  of  you." 

"  Soapy  "  lingered  at  the  door,  fumbling  his  dilapi 
dated  hat.  Mrs.  Spofford  was  staring  speechlessly  at 
her  niece. 

"  I'd  a  little  sooner  you  wouldn't  say  anything  to 
A.  A.  about  me  peaching  on  him,"  said  "  Soapy,"  some 
what  nervously. 

"  I  shall  not  '  peach '  on  you,  Soapy,"  said  the  girl, 
a  joyous  smile  suddenly  illuminating  her  face. 

"  Soapy  "  went  out.  As  he  closed  the  door,  he  said 
to  himself :  "  Next  time  you  tell  me  to  go  to  hell,  Abe 
Landover,  I  guess  you'd  better  furnish  a  guide  that 
knows  the  way." 

As  soon  as  the  door  was  closed,  Mrs.  Spofford  turned 
upon  her  radiant  niece. 

"  You  are  not  such  a  fool  as  to  believe  that  rascal's 
story,  Ruth?" 

"  I  believe  every  word  of  it !  "  cried  the  girl. 


CHAPTER  XII 

SAILORS,  sniffing  the  gale  that  night,  shook  their 
heads  and  said  there  was  snow  on  the  tail  of  it. 
Morning  found  the  ground  mottled  with  splashes 
of  white   and    a   fine,    frost-like    sleet    blowing   fitfully 
across  the  plain.     The  ridge  of  trees  over  against  the 
shore  became  vague   and   shapeless  beneath   the  filmy 
veil,  while  the  sea  out  beyond  the  breakers  was  clothed 
in  a  grey  shroud,  bleak  and  impenetrable. 

Knapendyke  was  positive  and  reassuring  in  his  con 
tention  that  no  great  amount  of  snow  ever  fell  upon  the 
island.  While  much  of  the  vegetation  was  of  a  char 
acter  indigenous  to  the  temperate  zone,  there  was,  he 
pointed  out,  another  type  peculiar  to  tropical  cli 
mates, —  and  although  the  latter  was  of  a  singularly 
hardy  nature,  it  was  not  calculated  to  survive  the  rig 
ours  of  a  harsh,  protracted  winter. 

"  We'll  have  spells  like  this,  off  and  on,  just  as  they 
occasionally  do  in  Florida  or  Southern  California,  is 
the  way  I  figure  it  out,"  he  said  to  the  group  of  un 
easy  men  who  contemplated  the  embryonic  blizzard  with 
alarm  and  misgiving.  "  Moreover,  I  believe  the  wet, 
cold  season  is  a  short  one  here.  The  birds  are  content 
to  stick  it  out.  The  fact  there  is  no  migration  is  proof 
enough  for  me  that  the  winter  is  never  severe.  As  the 
weather  prognosticators  say,  look  out  for  squalls,  un 
settled  weather,  frost  tonight,  rising  temperature  to 
morrow,  rain  the  next  day,  doctors'  bills  the  end  of  the 
month.  Avoid  crowded  street-cars,  passenger  eleva 
tors  and  places  of  amusement.  Take  plenty  of  out- 

287 


288  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

door  exercise  and  don't  eat  too  many  strawberries." 

Children,  on  their  way  to  school  in  the  town  hall, 
shouted  with  glee  as  they  romped  in  the  snow-laden 
gale.  It  had  no  terrors  for  them.  They  were  not  con 
cerned  with  the  dour  prospect  that  brought  anxiety 
to  the  hearts  of  their  elders. 

"  It's  fine  to  be  a  kid,"  said  Percival,  watching  the 
antics  of  a  crowd  of  boys.  "  Why  do  we  have  to  grow 
up?" 

"  So  that  we  can  appreciate  what  it  was  to  be  a 
kid,"  said  Randolph  Fitts. 

Ruth  Clinton  was  one  of  the  teachers.  There  were, 
all  told,  about  thirty  children  in  the  school,  their  ages 
ranging  from  five  to  fourteen.  Most  of  them  were 
youngsters  from  the  steerage,  bright-eyed  little  Latins 
who  had  picked  up  with  lively  avidity  no  small  store 
of  English.  They  were  being  taught  in  English. 

The  council,  spurred  by  the  far-seeing  Percival,  rec 
ognized  the  perils  of  a  period  of  inactivity  following 
the  harvest  and  the  flailing  days.  The  majority  of 
the  men  and  women  would  be  comparatively  idle.  Prep 
arations  for  the  building  of  a  small  ship  occupied  the 
time  and  interest  of  a  few  engineers  and  ship-carpen 
ters,  but  as  some  weeks  were  bound  to  pass  before  the 
work  could  be  begun  in  earnest,  an  interim  of  impa 
tience  would  have  to  be  bridged.  Work,  and  plenty  of 
it,  was  the  only  prescription  for  despair. 

Already  symptoms  of  increasing  moodiness  marked 
the  mien  of  the  less  resourceful  among  the  castaways. 
While  it  was  not  generally  known,  two  men  had  at 
tempted  suicide,  and  one  of  the  Brazilian  ladies, —  a 
beautiful  young  married  woman, —  was  in  a  pitiful  state 
of  collapse.  She  had  a  husband  and  two  small  chil 
dren  in  Rio  Janeiro.  The  separation  was  driving  her 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  289 

mad.  There  were  others, —  both  men  and  women, — 
whose  minds  were  never  free  from  the  thought  of  loved 
ones  far  across  the  waters  and  whose  hearts  ached  with 
a  great  pain  that  could  not  be  subdued  by  philosophy, 
but  they  were  strong  and  they  were  cheerful.  In  their 
souls  burnt  an  unquenchable  fire,  the  fire  of  hope ;  they 
stirred  it  night  and  day  with  the  song  of  the  unvan- 
quished. 

Improvements  in  the  hastily  constructed  cabins  pro 
vided  not  only  occupation  but  interest  for  the  able- 
bodied  men  and  women.  There  was  no  little  rivalry 
in  the  matter  of  interior  embellishments;  those  skilled 
in  the  use  of  implements  took  great  pride  in  hewing 
out  and  adding  more  or  less  elaborate  ornamentation 
to  the  fa9ades  of  their  habitations, —  such  as  case 
ments,  door-posts  and  capitals,  awnings,  porches,  and 
so  forth.  A  shell  road  was  in  process  of  construction 
from  one  end  of  the  village  to  the  other,  while  over  in 
Dismal  Forest  woodsmen  were  even  now  cutting  down 
the  towering  Norfolk  pines  and  hewing  out  the  staunch 
timbers  for  the  ship  that  was  to  sail  out  one  day  in 
quest  of  the  world  they  had  left  behind  them.  But 
these  enterprises  provided  work  for  men  only.  The 
women,  in  the  main,  were  without  occupation.  With 
the  approach  of  winter  the  men  in  active  control  of 
the  camp's  affairs  realized  that  something  would  have 
to  be  done  to  relieve  the  strain, —  at  least,  to  lighten 
it  until  spring  came  to  the  rescue  with  toil  in  the  fields 
and  gardens. 

A  system  of  exchange  was  being  worked  out.  As 
has  been  mentioned  before  in  this  chronicle,  the  people 
of  the  steerage  were  the  plutocrats.  Their  hoardings 
represented  real  money,  the  savings  of  years.  When  it 
came  to  an  actual  "  show-down," —  to  use  Percival's 


£90  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

expression, —  these  people  who  were  poor  in  the  ac 
cepted  sense,  now  were  rich.  They  could  "  buy  and 
sell  "  the  "  plutocrats  "  of  another  day  and  another 
world. 

The  theory  that  one  good  turn  deserves  another  was 
an  insufficient  foundation  upon  which  to  construct  a 
substantial  system  of  exchange.  It  is  all  very  well  to 
talk  about  brotherly  love,  said  Percival.  The  trouble 
is  that  certain  brothers  are  for  ever  imposing  upon 
other  brothers,  and  the  good  turn  does  not  always  find 
its  recompense.  Socialism,  he  argued,  is  a  fine  thing 
until  you  discover  that  you  are  not  alone  in  the  world. 
Brotherly  love  began  with  Cain  and  Abel,  and  social 
ism  is  best  exemplified  by  a  parlour  aquarium.  Noth 
ing  happens  to  disturb  the  serene  existence  of  the  gold 
fish  until  somebody  forgets  to  feed  them,  and  then 
they  begin  nibbling  at  each  other. 

"  You  mend  my  fence,  I'll  mend  yours,"  is  an  ideal 
arrangement  until  you  find  it  is  "  our  fence "  and 
doesn't  need  mending. 

To  Landover,  Block  and  other  financial  experts  was 
delegated  the  power  and  authority  to  perfect  a  fair, 
impartial  monetary  system.  First  of  all,  they  arbi 
trarily  declared  the  dollar,  the  peso  and  the  shilling 
to  be  without  value.  "  Time  "  script  was  to  be  issued 
by  the  governing  board,  and  as  this  substitute  would 
automatically  become  useless  on  the  day  the  castaways 
were  discovered  and  taken  off  the  island,  no  citizen 
was  to  be  allowed  to  reduce  or  dissipate  his  hoard  of 
real  money. 

Landover's  proposal  that  a  central  depository  be  es 
tablished  for  the  purpose  of  holding  and  safe-guarding 
the  possessions  of  each  and  every  person  was  primarily 
intended  to  prevent  the  surreptitious  use  of  real  money. 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  291 

This  project  met  with  almost  universal  opposition. 
The  "  rich "  preferred  to  hang  onto  their  money, 
thereby  running  true  to  form.  While  professing  the 
utmost  confidence  in  the  present  integrity  of  the  banker 
and  his  friends  they  ingenuously  wanted  to  know  what 
chance  they  would  have  of  getting  their  money  back 
when  these  masters  of  finance  were  ready  to  leave  the 
island!  So  they  elected  to  hide  their  gold  and  silver 
where  it  would  be  safe  from  unscrupulous  financiers ! 
And  nothing  could  shake  them  in  this  resolve. 

"  Time  "  was  the  basic  principle  on  which  the  value 
of  the  script  was  to  be  determined,  and  as  "  time,"  in 
this  instance,  meant  hours  and  nothing  else,  a  citizen's 
income  depended  entirely  on  his  readiness  to  work. 
Ten  hours  represented  a  full  day's  work.  The  hand- 
press  on  board  the  Doraine  was  used  to  print  the 
"  hours,"  as  the  little  slips  made  from  the  stock  of 
menu  card-board  were  called.  They  were  divided  into 
five  denominations,  viz. :  One  Hour,  Three  Hours,  Five 
Hours,  Seven  Hours  and  Ten  Hours.  Each  of  these 
checks  bore  the  signature  of  Abel  T.  Landover  and  a 
seal  devised  by  Peter  Snipe,  who  besides  being  an 
author  was  something  of  a  draughtsman, —  indeed,  his 
enemies  said  he  was  a  far  better  artist  than  he  was  an 
author,  which  annoyed  him  tremendously  in  view  of 
the  fact  that  he  had  stopped  drawing  when  he  was 
fifteen  because  eminent  cartoonists  and  illustrators 
had  told  him  he  had  no  talent  at  all.  The  printing  and 
stamping  was  done  on  board  the  Doraine  and  the  script 
was  shortly  to  be  put  into  circulation.  Landover  was 
slated  to  become  treasurer  of  Trigger  Island  at  the 
general  election. 

As  an  illustration,  this  sort  of  dialogue  was  soon  to 
become  more  or  less  common: 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

"What's  the  price  of  this  hat,  Madame  Obosky?" 

"  Twenty-seven  hours,  Mrs.  Block." 

Or: 

"  Gimme  an  hour's  worth  of  '  smoke,'  Andy,"  mean 
ing,  of  course,  the  substitute  for  tobacco. 

Or: 

"  You  blamed  robber,  what  do  you  mean  charging 
six  hours  for  half -soling  them  shoes?  If  you  was  any 
good,  you  could  ha'  done  it  in  half  the  time." 

Every  individual  in  camp  over  the  age  of  thirteen 
was  obliged  to  have  an  occupation.  To  a  certain  ex 
tent,  this  occupation  was  selective,  but  in  the  main  it 
was  to  be  determined  by  a  board  whose  business  it  was 
to  see  that  the  man-power  was  directed  to  the  best  ad 
vantage  for  all  concerned.  A  camp  tax  was  ordered. 
At  the  end  of  the  week,  every  citizen  was  required  to 
pay  into  the  common  treasury  two  "  hours."  He  could 
not  "  work  out  "  this  tax.  It  had  to  be  paid  in  "cash." 
Out  of  the  taxes  so  received,  the  school,  the  church,  the 
"  hospital "  and  the  "  government "  were  to  be  sup 
ported. 

The  "governor"  of  Trigger  Island  and  the  hum 
blest  workingman  were  to  receive  exactly  the  same  pay : 
"  hour  "  for  hour.  Thirty  thousand  "  hours  "  repre 
sented  the  total  issue,  or,  approximately  fifty  units  for 
each  individual  over  the  age  of  thirteen. 

As  no  man's  hours  was  worth  more  than  another's, 
and  as  every  transaction  was  to  be  based  on  time, 
rather  than  on  money,  there  was  no  small  likelihood 
that  any  one  man  or  group  of  men  could  ever  obtain 
a  commanding  grip  on  the  finances  of  the  Island. 

And  so  it  came  to  pass  that  all  manner  of  enterprises 
sprang  into  existence.  Competition  was  not  allowed. 
There  could  be  but  one  millinery  shop,  one  dress- 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  293 

making  establishment,  one  shoe  and  sandal  factory, 
and  so  on.  Everything  was  conducted  on  a  strictly 
cash  basis ;  there  were  no  "  charge  accounts." 

Olga  Obosky,  as  the  proprietress  of  the  millinery 
shop,  earned  no  more  than  any  one  of  her  half-dozen 
assistants, —  and  they  were  all  paid  by  the  "  govern 
ment."  The  same  could  be  said  of  Madame  Careni- 
Amori,  who  conducted  a  school  of  music,  and  the  great 
Joseppi  who  graciously^ — even  gladly, —  went  into  the 
tailoring  business.  Andrew  Mott,  one  time  First 
Officer  on  the  Doraine,  opened  a  "  smoke  "  store  and 
dispensed  cured  weed  that  Flattner  authorized  him  to 
call  "  tobacco."  The  austere  Mrs.  Spofford  decided 
to  open  a  dress-making  shop  1 

It  was  all  very  simple,  this  man-to-man  system  of 
traffic,  but  no  one  took  it  lightly  or  in  the  spirit  of 
jest.  They  were  serious,  they  were  sober-minded.  In 
terest,  incentive,  grim  determination  centred  in  the 
seemingly  childish  arrangement.  Greed  was  lacking, 
for  there  was  no  chance  to  hoard;  confidence  was  par 
amount,  for  there  was  no  chance  to  lose. 

The  "  hours  "  travelled  in  a  circle,  from  the  "  gov 
ernment  "  to  people,  from  people  to  "  government " ; 
when  all  was  said  and  done,  it  was  the  product  of  soil 
and  sea  that  formed  the  backbone  of  the  system. 

With  the  adoption  of  the  plan,  it  was  to  become 
a  punishable  offence, —  indeed,  it  was  to  be  classified  as 
treason, —  for  any  resident  of  Trigger  Island  to 
"  forage "  for  necessities.  He  could  do  what  he 
pleased  in  respect  to  the  non-essentials,  but  when  it 
came  to  foodstuffs  of  any  kind  or  description,  he  was 
guilty  of  a  felony  if  he  failed  to  turn  all  that  he  pro 
duced  or  secured  into  the  general  stores. 

"  Strikes  me,"  said  Randolph  Fitts  in  council  meet- 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

ing,  "  that  we  are  arriving  at  the  most  exquisite  state 
of  socialism.  This  comes  pretty  close  to  being  the 
essence  of  that  historic  American  dream,  '  of  the  peo 
ple,  by  the  people,  for  the  people.'  Up  to  date,  that 
has  been  the  rarest  socialistic  doctrine  ever  promul 
gated,  but  we  are  going  it  a  long  sight  better.  '  From 
the  people,  by  the  people,  to  the  people.'  What  do 
you  call  that  but  socialism?  " 

"  Are  you  speaking  to  me  ?  "  demanded  Percival. 

"  In  a  general  way,  yes," 

"  Well,  it's  not  my  idea  of  socialism.  So  far  as  I've 
been  able  to  discover,  socialism  is  a  game  in  which  you 
are  supposed  to  take  something  out  of  your  pocket 
and  put  it  into  the  other  fellow's  whether  he  wants  it 
or  not.  This  scheme  of  ours  is  quite  another  thing. 
We're  not  planning  to  split  even  on  what  we've  got 
in  our  pockets  so  much  as  we're  planning  to  divide  what 
we've  got  in  our  hands,  and  there's  a  lot  of  difference 
between  a  hand  and  a  pocket,  old  top.  You  can  see 
what's  in  one  and  you  can't  see  what's  in  the  other. 
And,  by  the  way,  Fitts,  if  we  let  the  socialists  in  this 
camp  suspect  that  we're  trying  to  introduce  socialism 
here,  there'll  be  a  revolution  before  you  can  say  Jack 
Robinson.  They  won't  stand  for  it.  They'd  let  out 
the  blamedest  roar  on  record  if  they  thought  we  were 
trying  to  deprive  them  of  the  right  to  feel  sorry  for 
themselves." 

Ruth  hurried  over  to  the  town-hall  bright  and  early 
on  this  snowy,  gusty  morning.  The  forenoon  session 
of  the  school  began  punctually  at  8:30  o'clock.  She 
was  there  half  an  hour  ahead  of  time  to  see  that  there 
was  a  roaring  fire  in  the  huge  fire-place,  and  that  the 
benches  for  the  scholars  were  drawn  up  close  to  it. 
There  were  two  teachers  besides  herself, —  and  both  of 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  295 

them  were  experienced  "  school  marms."  She  taught 
the  "  infant  class,"  comprising  about  a  dozen  tots. 
The  three  teachers  took  turns  about  in  building  the 
fires,  arranging  the  benches  and  cleaning  the  crude 
blackboard. 

There  had  been  church-services  the  night  before,  and 
the  benches  were  all  in  use,  arranged  so  that  they 
faced  the  combination  pulpit-rostrum-stage  at  the  far 
end  of  the  room.  Tonight  there  was  to  be  a  general 
committee  meeting  to  discuss  the  prospective  financial 
scheme  and  the  general  election  that  was  to  take  place 
the  following  week. 

The  structure  was  not  blessed  with  a  paucity  of 
names.  If  there  was  to  be  a  council-meeting  or  a 
camp  assembly,  it  was  called  the  "  Meeting-house." 
On  Sundays  it  became  the  "  tabernacle."  Week-days 
it  was  known  as  the  "  schoolhouse,"  and  at  odd  times 
it  was  spoken  of  as  the  "  theatre,"  the  "  concert-hall," 
and  the  "  Trigger  Island  court-house."  In  one  cor 
ner  stood  the  grand  piano  from  the  Doraine,  regularly 
and  laboriously  tuned  by  the  great  Joseppi.  Madame 
Careni-Amori  gave  vocal  and  instrumental  lessons  here 
every  afternoon  in  the  week,  from  three  to  six.  Among 
the  older  children  there  were  a  number  who  had  voices 
that  seemed  worth  developing,  and  the  famous  soprano 
put  her  heart  and  soul  into  the  bewildering  task  of 
stuffing  the  rudiments  of  music  down  their  throats. 

Ruth  stopped  just  inside  the  door  and  looked  about 
her  in  astonishment.  The  Jbenches  had  been  drawn  up 
in  an  orderly  semi-circle  about  the  fire-place.  Beyond 
them  she  observed  the  figure  of  a  man  kneeling  before 
the  fire,  using  a  bellows  with  great  effect.  The  big 
logs  were  snapping,  and  cracking,  and  spitting  before 
the  furious  blasts. 


296  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

She  closed  the  door  and  started  across  the  room  in 
his  direction.  Suddenly  she  recognized  the  broad  back 
and  the  familiar  but  very  unseasonable  panama  hat. 
Panic  seized  her.  She  turned  quickly,  bent  on  mak 
ing  her  escape.  Her  heart  was  beating  like  a  trip 
hammer, —  she  felt  strangely  weak  in  the  knees.  As 
abruptly,  she  checked  the  impulse  to  flee.  Why  should 
she  run  away,  now  that  the  moment  she  had  wished 
for  so  ardently  the  night  before  was  at  hand?  Chance 
had  answered  her  call  with  amazing  swiftness.  She 
was  alone  with  him, —  she  could  go  to  him  and  lay 
her  weapons  at  his  feet  and  say, —  as  she  had  said  a 
hundred  times  in  the  night, —  "I  can  fight  no  more. 
I  am  beaten." 

But  now  that  the  time  had  come  for  bravery,  she 
found  herself  sorely  afraid.  A  chill  swept  through  her, 
—  a  weakening  chill  that  took  away  her  strength  and 
left  her  trembling  from  head  to  foot.  The  crisis  was  at 
hand, —  the  great,  surpassing  crisis.  She  found  her 
self  hazily,  tremulously  wondering  what  the  next  min 
ute  in  her  life  would  be  like?  What  would  be  said  in 
it,  what  would  happen  to  her?  Would  she  be  in  his 
arms,  would  his  lips  be  upon  hers, —  all  in  the  minute 
to  come?  Was  the  whole  of  her  life  to  be  altered  in 
the  brief  space  of  a  minute's  time? 

A  warm  glow  suddenly  drove  off  the  chill.  It  came 
with  the  realization  that  he  was  building  the  fire  for 
her, —  that  his  thoughts  were  of  her, —  that  he  had 
stolen  into  the  building  to  make  it  warm  and  com 
fortable  long  before  she  was  due  to  arrive, —  and  that 
he  would  steal  away  again  as  soon  as  the  "  chores  " 
were  done. 

He  arose  to  his  feet  and  stood  over  the  fire  for  a 
moment  or  two,  watching  its  lively  progress.  Appar- 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  297 

ently  satisfied  with  his  efforts,  he  turned  and  started 
toward  the  door.  She  was  standing  in  his  path,  a 
shy,  wavering  smile  on  her  lips. 

He  halted,  and  after  an  instant's  hesitation,  stam 
mered  : 

"I  —  I  never  dreamed  you'd  be  around  so  early. 
I  thought  I'd  run  in  as  I  was  passing  and  build  a  fire 
for  —  for  the  kiddies.  Get  the  place  warmed  up  a 
bit  before  —  " 

"Will  you  let  me  say  something,  Mr.  Percival?  " 
she  broke  in,  hurrying  the  words. 

He  fumbled  for  his  hat.  "  I  am  sorry  if  you  are 
annoyed,  Miss  Clinton.  Please  believe  me  when  I  tell 
you  I  hoped  to  get  out  before  you  came.  I  came  early 
so  that  you  would  not  find  me  —  " 

"  You  are  not  letting  me  say  what  I  want  to  say." 

She  came  toward  him,  her  hand  extended.  "  Oh,  I 
don't  want  to  thank  you  for  lighting  the  fir*  and  put 
ting  the  room  in  order.  I  want  to  tell  you  that  I 
surrender." 

"  Surrender?  "  he  exclaimed,  staring. 

"  I  cannot  fight  you  any  longer,"  she  said  breath 
lessly. 

He  looked  dumbly  first  at  her  hand  and  then  into 
her  eyes.  She  was  an  arm's  length  away. 

"  Fight  me  ?  "  he  mumbled,  uncomprehending. 

"  You  —  you  said  we  could  not  be  friends.  I  knew 
what  you  meant.  If  —  if  you  love  me, —  oh,  if  you  do 
love  me,  we  need  not  be  friends.  But  I  know  you  love 
me.  If  I  did  not  know  it  I  could  not  have  c^me  to 
you  like  this  and  —  " 

"  Do  I  love  you?  "  he  cried  out.  "  My  God,  I  —  I 
worship  you." 

She  held  out  both  arms  to  him.     "  Then,  we  will  try 


298  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

no  more  to  be  friends,"  she  murmured  very  softly. 
"  Here  are  my  arms.  I  surrender." 

A  long  time  after  he  said  to  her  as  they  sat  before 
the  j  ubilant,  applauding  fire, —  the  only  witness  to 
their  ecstasy: 

"  Now  I  understand  why  we  have  never  really  been 
friends.  It  wasn't  what  God  intended.  Even  in  the 
beginning  we  were  not  friends.  We  thought  we  were, 

—  but  we  weren't.     We  were  lovers,  Ruth, —  from  the 
start." 

"  I  tried  very  hard  to  hate  you,"  she  sighed,  draw 
ing  a  little  closer  in  the  crook  of  his  encircled  arm. 
"  How  wonderful  it  all  is, —  how  wonderful !  " 

66 1  never  believed  it  could  come  true.  I  hoped,  God, 
how  I  hoped, —  but  it  didn't  seem  possible  that  this 
could  ever  happen.  I've  wanted  to  hold  you  in  my 
arms,  to  kiss  your  dear  lips,  to  kiss  your  eyes,  to  touch 
your  hair,  to  press  you  tight  against  my  heart.  And 
here  I  am  awake,  not  dreaming,  not  longing, —  and  I 
have  done  all  these  things.  Lord!  I  wonder  if  I 
can  possibly  be  dreaming  all  this  for  the  thousandth 
time." 

"  I  was  thinking  of  you  when  I  came  into  this  room, 

—  not  ten  minutes  ago, —  and  suddenly  I  saw  you.     I 
was  terrified.     I  knew  then  that  my  dreams  were  com 
ing  true, —  I  knew  it,  and  I  don't  know  why  I  did  not 
run    away.     Any    self-respecting,    modest    girl   would 
have  done  so.     But  what  did  I  do?     I,  a  supposedly 
sensible,  well-brought-up  —  " 

"  You  caught  me  trying  to  run  away,"  he  broke  in. 
"  I  give  you  my  word,  my  heart  was  in  my  throat  all 
the  time  I  was  working  over  that  fire, —  scared  stiff 
with  the  fear  that  you  would  come  in  and  bayonet  me 


WEST  WIND  DRIF'j  299 

with  one  of  those  icicle  looks  of  your.'  And  see  what 
really  happened ! " 

They  were  silent  for  some  time,  staring  into  the 
fire.  Suddenly  his  arm  tightened;  he  drew  a  sharp 
breath.  She  looked  up  quickly. 

"  Why  are  you  frowning?  " 

"  I  was  just  thinking,"  he  replied  after  a  moment's 
hesitation. 

He  gave  a  queer  little  jerk  of  his  head,  as  if  casting 
off  something  that  bothered  him.  Into  his  paradise 
had  slipped  the  memory  of  a  night  not  long  since 
when  he  held  the  yielding,  responsive  form  of  another 
woman  in  his  arms,  and  felt  the  thrill  of  an  ignoble 
passion  surging  through  his  veins.  The  kiss  of  the 
sensualist  had  burned  on  his  lips  for  days ;  even  to  this 
hour  it  had  clung  to  them ;  he  was  never  free  from  the 
fire  it  had  started  in  his  imagination.  And  always  on 
Olga's  red,  alluring  lips  lurked  the  reminder  that 
she  had  not  forgotten;  in  her  eyes  lay  the  light  of 
expectancy. 

"  Of  whom  ?  "  asked  Ruth,  not  coyly,  but  with  a 
directness  that  startled  him.  She  seemed  to  have 
divined  that  his  thoughts  were  not  of  her  in  that 
brief,  flitting  instant. 

"  Of  myself,"  he  answered,  quite  truthfully. 

She  laid  her  hand  on  his.  "  I  forbid  you  to  think 
of  any  one  but  me,"  she  said. 

He  was  silent  for  a  moment.  "  I  shall  never  think 
of  any  one  but  you,  Ruth  Clinton,"  he  said  earnestly. 
"  You  have  nothing  to  fear." 

"  I  believe  you,"  she  said,  and  pressed  his  hand 
tightly.  After  a  slight  pause,  she  went  on,  looking 
straight  into  his  eyes :  "  I  might  have  lost  you,  dear, 


300  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

—  and  I  could  have  blamed  no  one  but  myself.     She 

—  she  is  very  alluring." 

He  shook  his  head.  "  I've  always  been  of  the 
opinion  that  Samson's  hair  needed  trimming.  His 
mother  probably  brought  him  up  with  Fauntleroy 
curls,  poor  chap.  If  he'd  had  his  hair  cut  regularly, 
he  wouldn't  have  looked  such  an  ass  when  Delilah  got 
through  with  him." 

"  I  don't  quite  follow  the  parable." 

"  In  other  words,  it's  what  a  man's  got  in  his  head 
and  not  so  much  what  he's  got  on  it  that  makes  him 
strong,"  he  explained,  still  more  or  less  cryptically. 

"  I  am  beginning  to  see.  You  made  good  use  of 
what  you  have  in  your  head,  is  that  it?  " 

"  I  made  use  of  what  you  put  into  it  a  good  many 
months  ago,  dear  heart.  You  have  been  in  my  head 
and  in  my  heart  all  these  months,  and  so  it  was  you 
who  made  me  strong.  WTithout  you  in  there,  I  might 
have  been  as  weak  as  Samson  was  before  he  had  his 
hair  cut.  No  sensible  man  blames  Delilah.  In  fact, 
men  are  rather  strong  for  her.  When  you  stop  to 
think  how  long  old  Samson  got  away  with  it,  and 
what  a  shock  it  must  have  been  to  her  after  she  trimmed 
him  and  found  there  wasn't  anything  left  to  speak  of, 
you've  just  got  to  feel  sorry  for  her.  She  took  one 
good  look  at  his  head  and  understood  why  he  let  his 
hair  grow.  He  was  like  the  fellow  who  wears  long 
whiskers  to  develop  his  chin.  If  Samson  had  had 
room  enough  in  his  head  for  a  thought  of  anything 
except  himself,  Delilah  wouldn't  have  been  able  to 
catch  him  napping." 

She  could  not  help  laughing.  "  You  take  a  most 
original  way  of  evading  the  point.  Still,  I  am  satis 
fied.  You  did  not  have  room  in  your  head  for  any 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  SOI 

one  else  but  me, —  and  that's  all  there  is  to  it.  I 
can't  help  feeling  tremendously  complimented,  how 
ever.  She  is  quite  capable  of  turning  any  man's 
head." 

"  She  plays  fair,  Ruth,"  he  said  seriously.  "  She 
keeps  the  danger  signal  up  all  the  time.  That's  more 
than  you  can  say  for  most  women." 

"  Yes,"  said  she ;  "  she  plays  fair.  She  is  a  strange 
woman.  She  has  given  me  a  lot  of  advice, —  and  I 
am  just  beginning  to  take  it." 

"  If  I  had  believed  what  she  told  me  three  months 
ago,"  said  he,  "  this  glorious  hour  would  have  been 
advanced  just  that  length  of  time." 

Ruth  stiffened.     "  What  did  she  tell  you?  " 

"  She  told  me  I  was  a  fool  and  a  coward ;  that  all 
I  had  to  do  was  to  walk  up  to  you  and  say  '  Here,  I 
want  you,'  and  that  would  have  been  the  end  of  iny 
suspense.  She  told  me  something  I  didn't  know  and 
couldn't  believe." 

"  Indeed  1     I  like  her  impudence !     She  — " 

"  She  told  me  you  were  as  much  in  love  with  me  as 
I  was  with  you.  Honest, —  was  she  right  ?  " 

Ruth  sighed.     "  I  suppose  she  was  right." 

"  And  would  you  have  come  to  me  if  I  had  said  *  I 
want  you  '  ?  " 

"  If  you  had  said  it  as  you  say  it  now,  I  —  listen ! 
Good  gracious  !  There  are  the  children !  " 

She  sprang  to  her  feet,  blushing  furiously.  The 
door  opened  and  three  small  children  were  fairly  blown 
into  the  room, —  three  swarthy,  black-eyed  urchins  who 
stared  in  some  doubt  at  the  "  boss  "  and  the  adored 
"  teacher." 

"  Good  morning,  children,"  she  cried  out  jerkily, 
and  then  glanced  at  each  of  the  windows  in  quick  sue- 


302  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

cession.  "  You  don't  suppose, —  "  she  began  under  her 
breath,  turning  to  Percival  with  a  distressed  look  in 
her  eyes. 

"  I  wouldn't  put  it  above  'em,"  said  he,  cheerfully. 

"  We  should  have  thought  of  the  windows." 

"  Thank  God,  we  didn't,"  he  cried. 

He  went  out  into  the  storm  with  the  song  of  the 
lark  in  his  heart. 

"  God,  what  a  beautiful  place  the  world  is !  "  he  was 
saying  to  himself,  and  all  the  while  the  sleet  was 
stinging  his  radiant  face  with  the  relentlessness  of 
angry  bees.. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

AS  he  swung  jauntily  down  the  road  in  the 
direction  of  his  "  office,"  all  the  world  might 
have  seen  that  it  was  a  beautiful  place  for 
him.  He  passed  children  hurrying  to  school,  and 
shouted  envious  "  hurry-ups "  to  them.  Men  and 
women,  going  about  the  morning's  business,  felt  better 
for  the  cheery  greetings  he  gave  them.  Even  Manuel 
Crust,  pushing  a  crude  barrow  laden  with  fire-wood, 
paused  to  look  after  the  strutting  figure,  resuming  his 
progress  with  an  annoyed  scowl  on  his  brow,  for  he 
had  been  guilty  of  a  pleasant  response  to  Percival's 
genial  "  good-morning."  Manuel  went  his  way  won 
dering  what  the  devil  had  got  into  both  of  them. 

Olga  Obosky  was  peering  from  a  window  as  he 
passed  her  hut.  He  waved  his  hand  at  her, —  and 
then  shook  his  head.  He  had  passed  her  three  danc 
ing-girls  some  distance  down  the  road,  romping  like 
children  in  the  snow. 

Buck  Chizler  was  waiting  for  him  outside  the  "  office." 
The  little  jockey  had  something  on  his  mind, —  some 
thing  that  caused  him  to  grin  sheepishly  and  at  the 
same  time  look  furtively  over  his  shoulder. 

"  Can  I  see  you  for  a  coupla  minutes,  A.  A.  ?  "  he 
inquired,  following  the  other  to  the  door. 

"  Certainly,  Buck, —  as  many  minutes  as  you  like." 

Buck  discovered  Randolph  Fitts  and  Michael 
Malone  seated  before  the  fire.  He  drew  back. 

"  I'd  like  to  see  you  outside,"  he  said  nervously. 

"Well,  what  is  it?"  asked  Percival,  stepping  out 
side  and  closing  the  door. 

303 


304  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

Buck  led  him  around  the  corner  of  the  hut. 

"It  ain't  so  windy  here,"  he  explained.  "Awful 
weather,  ain't  it?" 

"What's  troubling  you,  Buck?  Put  on  your  cap, 
you  idiot.  You'll  take  cold." 

"  Plumb  nervousness,"  said  Buck.  "  Same  as  if  I 
was  pulling  up  to  the  start  with  fifty  thousand  on  the 
nag.  I  want  to  ask  your  advice,  A.  A.  Just  a  little 
private  matter.  Oh,  nothing  serious.  Nothing  like 
that,  you  know.  I  just  thought  maybe  you'd  —  Gosh, 
I  never  saw  it  snow  like  this  up  home,  did  you? 
Funny,  too,  when  you  think  how  tropical  we  ought  to 
be.  There  was  a  bad  blizzard  a  coupla  years  ago  in 
Buenos  Aires,  but  —  " 

"  Come  to  the  point,  Buck.     What's  up?  " 

Buck  lowered  his  voice.  "  Well,  you  see  it's  this 
way.  I'm  thinking  of  getting  married.  Tomorrow, 
if  possible.  Don't  laugh!  I  don't  see  anything  to 
laugh  at  in  —  " 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  old  chap.  I  couldn't  help 
laughing.  It's  because  I'm  happy.  Don't  mind  me. 
Go  ahead.  You're  thinking  of  getting  married,  eh? 
Well,  what's  to  prevent?  " 

"Do  you  approve  of  it?  That's  what  I  want  to 
know." 

"  Sure.     Of  course,  I  approve  of  it." 

"  I  j  ust  thought  I'd  make  sure.  You  see,  nobody's 
ever  got  married  here  before,  and  I  didn't  know  what 
you'd  think  of  me  —  er  —  sort  of  breaking  the  ice, 
don't  you  see." 

"  She's  finally  said  '  yes,'  has  she  ?  Good  girl ! 
Congratulations,  old  chap, —  thousands  of  'em  • — 
millions." 

"  Well,  that  takes  some  of  the  load  off  my  mind," 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  305 

said  Buck,  as  they  shook  hands.  "  Now,  there's  one 
or  two  things  more.  First,  she  says  she  won't  come 
and  live  in  a  hut  where  five  men  besides  myself  are 
bunking.  I  don't  blame  her,  do  you?  Second,  she 
says  if  we  ever  get  rescued  from  this  island,  she  won't 
let  me  go  to  the  war, —  not  a  step,  she  swears.  I 
put  up  a  holler  right  away.  I  says  to  her  I  was  on 
my  way  to  the  war  before  I  ever  met  her,  and  then 
she  says  I  ain't  got  anything  on  her.  She  was  going 
over  to  nurse.  But  she  says  if  she  gets  married  she's 
going  to  claim  exemption,  or  whatever  they  call  it, 
and  she  says  I  got  to  do  the  same, — 'cause  we'll  both 
have  dependents  then.  Then  I  says  the  chances  are 
the  war's  over  by  this  time  anyhow,  and  she  says 
a  feller  in  the  Argentine  told  her  on  his  word  of  honour 
it  wouldn't  be  over  for  five  years  or  more.  But  that's 
a  minor  point.  What's  rusting  me  is  this:  how  am 
I  going  to  get  rid  of  them  five  guys  in  my  cabin?  " 
"  Have  you  told  them  you're  going  to  be  married?  " 
"  Oh,  hell,  they're  the  ones  that  told  me." 
"  It's  pretty  rough  weather  to  turn  men  out  into 
the  cold,  unfeeling  world,  Buck." 

Buck  scratched  his  ear  in  deep  perplexity.  "  Well, 
it's  got  me  guessing."  He  slumped  into  an  attitude 
of  profound  dejection.  "  What  we'd  ought  to  have 
done,  A.  A.,  was  to  build  a  hotel  or  something  like 
that.  If  we  had  a  hotel  here,  there'd  be  so  blamed 
many  weddings  you  couldn't  keep  track  of  'em.  That's 
the  only  thing  that's  holding  people  back.  Why,  half 
the  unmarried  fellers  here  are  thinking  about  getting 
married.  They're  thinking,  and  thinking,  and  think 
ing,  morning,  noon  and  night.  And  they've  got  the 
girls  thinking,  too, —  and  most  of  the  widders  and 
old  maids  besides.  I  don't  see  how  a  smart  feller  like 


306  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

you,  A.  A.,  happened  to  overlook  the  possibility  of 
just  this  kind  of  thing  happening." 

"  Good  Lord,  what  have  I  got  to  do  witn  it?  " 

"  Why,  darn  it  all,  you'd  ought  to  have  put  up  a 
few  huts  with  '  For  Rent '  signs  on  'em,  or  else  —  " 

"  By  George,  Buck !  I've  got  it,J>  cried  Percival 
excitedly.  "  Have  you  thought  of  a  wedding  jour 
ney?" 

"A  what?" 

"  Wedding  trip, —  honeymoon." 

"  Well,  we  might  walk  up  and  down  the  main  street 
here  a  coupla  times,"  said  Buck  sarcastically.  "  Or 
take  a  stroll  along  the  beach  or  something  like  that." 

"  What's  the  matter  with  a  nice  long  sea  voyage  ?  " 

"  Say,  I'm  not  kidding  about  this  thing,"  exclaimed 
Mr.  Chizler,  bristling.  "  I'm  in  dead  earnest." 

"  Has  it  occured  to  you  that  the  Doraine  is  lying 
out  there  in  the  harbour  —  Here !  Look  out !  I  don't 
like  being  hugged  by  —  " 

"  My  gosh,  A.  A !  Oh,  my  gosh ! "  barked  the 
ecstatic  bridegroom-apparent.  "  How  did  you  hap 
pen  to  think  of  such  a  beautiful,  wonderful  —  " 

"  How  did  I  happen  to  think  of  it  ?  "  shouted  Perci 
val,  just  as  ecstatically.  "Why,  darn  your  eyes, 
why  shouldn't  I  think  of  it?  Why  did  old  Noah  think 
of  the  Ark?  Why,  I  ask  you?" 

"He  didn't,"  said  Buck  succinctly.  "The  feller 
that  wrote  the  Bible  thought  of  it." 

"  What  time  is  it  ?  Oh,  Lord,  nearly  three  hours 
yet  before  school  is  out." 

"  Say,  are  you  off  your  base, —  lemme  smell  your 
breath.  You  act  like  —  Wait  a  second !  There's 
something  else  I  want  to  speak  to  you  about.  Is  it 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  307 

—  is  it  all  right  for  me  to  get  married?  She  says  I'll 
have  to  get  your  O.  K.  before  she'll  move  an  inch. 
She  says  nobody  can  do  anything  around  here  with 
out  you  say  so.  So  I  —  " 

"  You  tell  her  I  give  my  consent  gladly,  Buck,  my 
boy.  Give  her  a  good  kiss  for  me,  and  say  I'll  speak  to 
Captain  Trigger  this  afternoon  about  passage  on  the 
Doraine.  By  George,  I  —  I  think  I'll  go  and  speak 
to  him  about  it  now.5' 

"  Much  obliged,  boss.  By  gosh,  you  are  a  brick. 
There  ain't  anything  you  won't  do  for  a  friend,  is 
there?" 

Percival  blushed  and  stammered.  "I  —  I've  got 
to  see  him  anyhow,  Buck, —  so  don't  thank  me.  By 
the  way,  while  I'm  about  it,  I  suppose  I  might  as  well 
speak  to  Parson  Mackenzie,  eh?  Or  is  it  to  be  Father 
Francisco?  And  that  reminds  me,  I'll  have  to  see 
Malone  and  find  out  about  the  legality, —  got  to  have 
the  law  on  our  side,  you  see,  Buck.  Something  in  the 
form  of  a  license,: —  United  States  of  America  and  all 
that, —  and  also  see  about  fixing  up  desirable  quarters 
on  board  the  Doraine.  I  may  have  to  transfer  quite 
a  lot  of  —  er  —  furniture  and  so  forth  from  my  hut 
to  the  ship,  and  — " 

"  Gee  whiz,  A.  A.,  you  mustn't  go  to  so  blamed  much 
trouble  for  me,"  gasped  the  delighted  Buck. 

"Eh?  What?  Oh,  the  devil  take  you!  Beat  it 
now.  I'm  going  to  be  mighty  busy  this  morning." 

"  I'll  do  as  much  for  you,  A.  A.,  if  you  ever  get 
married,"  cried  Buck,  once  more  wringing  the  other's 
hand.  Then  he  was  off  up  the  road  like  a  schoolboy. 

Shortly  before  the  noon  recess,  Percival  returned 
from  the  Doraine^  By  this  time,  the  news  had  spread 


308  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

through  the  camp  that  there  was  to  be  a  wedding. 
Every  one  he  met  hailed  him  with  the  excited  question : 

"  Say,  have  you  heard  the  news  ?  " 

"What  news?" 

"  There's  going  to  be  a  wedding." 

"Good  Lord!"  said  Percival  to  himself.  "They 
must  have  been  peeping  through  those  windows  after 
all." 

Finding  that  he  had  ten  minutes  to  spare  before 
school  was  out,  he  decided  to  call  upon  Mrs.  Spofford. 
That  lady  received  him  with  icy  politeness. 

"  I  have  been  expecting  you,"  she  said.  "  Your 
friend  Mr.  Shay  honoured  us  with  a  visit  yesterday. 
My  niece  is  at  the  school.  Will  you  sit  down  and 
wait  for  her,  or  —  " 

"  I  beg  your  pardon.  What  was  that  you  said 
about  Shay?" 

"  I  said  he  came  to  see  us." 

Percival  stared.     "He  did?" 

"  Please  sit  down,  Mr.  Percival.  Do  not  ask  me 
to  tell  you  anything  more  about  Mr.  Shay,"  she  went 
on  hurriedly,  and  in  some  confusion.  "  I  don't  be 
lieve  he  would  like  it, —  and  as  he  is  a  dangerous 
character,  I  beg  of  you  not  to  —  " 

"  If  Soapy  Shay  dared  to  intrude  —  " 

"  I  implore  you,  do  not  think  anything  more  about 
it.  He  was  most  courteous  and  polite  and  all  that." 

He  remained  standing,  his  gaze  fixed  upon  her  face. 
Somehow,  he  guessed  the  nature  of  Soapy's  visit. 

"  I  suppose  he  came  as  a  tale-bearer." 

"  I  must  decline  to  discuss  the  matter,  Mr.  Per 
cival." 

"  Mrs.  Spofford,"  he  began,  with  all  the  dignity  of 
a  courtier,  "  I  have  come  to  request  the  hand  of  your 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  309 

niece  in  marriage.     I  have  loved  her  from  the  very  —  " 

"  Oh,  God!  "  groaned  the  trembling  lady.  "  It  has 
come  at  lastl  It  has  come, —  just  as  I  feared.  For 
pity's  sake,  Mr.  Percival,  spare  her !  She  is  —  " 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  broke  in,  flushing.  "  I 
think  you  misunderstand  me.  I  am  asking  your  con 
sent  to  marry  her.  I  believe  it  is  still  customary 
among  gentlemen  to  consult  the  —  " 

u  Permit  me  to  interrupt  you,  Mr.  Percival,"  said 
she,  regaining  her  composure  and  her  austerity. 
*'  What  you  ask  is  quite  impossible.  My  niece  is, — 
ah, —  I  may  say  tentatively  engaged.  I  am  sorry  for 
you.  Perhaps  it  would  be  just  as  well  if  you  did  not 
wait  for  her  to  come  in.  She  will  be  — " 

"  Mrs.  Spofford,  I  am  obliged  to  confess  to  you  that 
I  have  already  spoken  to  Miss  Clinton,  and  I  may  add 
that  she  is  not  tentatively  engaged.  She  has  prom 
ised  to  be  my  wife." 

She  drew  back  as  if  struck.  She  was  silent  for  many 
seconds. 

"  It  would  appear  that  my  consent  is  not  necessary, 
Mr.  Percival,"  she  said  at  last.  "  Why  do  you  come 
tome?" 

"  Because,  while  you  may  not  suspect  it,  I  was  born 
a  gentleman,"  said  he  stiffly. 

She  received  this  with  a  slight  nod  of  the  head  and 
no  more. 

"  My  niece,  no  '  oubt  in  her  excitement,  has  neglected 
to  ask  you  one  or  two  very  important  questions,"  she 
said  levelly.  "  First  of  all,  have  you  any  means  of 
convincing  us  that  you  do  not  already  possess  a  wife?  " 

He  started.  "  You  are  right,"  he  said.  "  That  is 
an  important  question,  and  she  has  not  asked  it.  I 
have  no  means  of  convincing  you  that  I  have  never 


310  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

been  married,  Mrs.  Spofford.     My  word  of  honour  is 
the  only  thing  I  can  offer." 

She  regarded  him  narrowly.  "  Do  you  consider 
that  sufficient,  Mr.  Percival?  " 

"  I  do,"  said  he  simply.  She  waited  for  him  to  go 
on,  and  was  distinctly  impressed  by  his  failure  to  do 
so.  So  far  as  he  was  concerned,  there  was  nothing 
more  to  be  added. 

"  How  are  we  to  know  what  your  past  life  contains  ? 
You  may  have  left  your  homeland  in  disgrace,  you  may 
even  have  been  a  fugitive  from  justice.  We  have  no 
means  of  knowing.  You  were  a  stowaway  on  board 
the  Doraine.  That  much,  at  least,  we  do  know.  We 
know  nothing  more.  You  are  smart,  you  are  clever. 
Surely  you  must  see  yourself  that  under  other  circum 
stances,  under  normal  conditions,  my  niece  would  not 
have  condescended  to  notice  you,  Mr.  Percival.  We 
are  on  an  undiscovered  island,  remote  from  the  envi 
ronment,  the  society,  the  — 

"  Permit  me  to  remind  you,  Mrs.  Spofford,"  he  inter 
rupted,  a  trifle  coldly,  "  that  you  just  remarked  that 
you  know  nothing  whatever  about  me.  Isn't  it  barely 
possible  that  my  life  may  contain  something  desirable 
in  the  shape  of  family,  position  and  environment?  " 

"  I  recall  that  Mr.  Gray  did  speak  of  knowing  the 
Percival  family.  My  niece  never  allows  me  to  forget 
it." 

"  Mr.  Gray  did  not  know  my  family.  He  knew  of 
my  family,  Mrs.  Spofford,  if  that  conveys  anything  to 
you.  Not  that  they  would  not  have  been  proud  to  have 
known  him,  for  he  was  a  gentleman.  As  for  my  own 
case,  I  can  only  say  that  I  am  not  a  fugitive  from 
justice,  nor  have  I  done  anything  more  disgraceful 
than  the  average  young  man  who  has  been  through 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  311 

college  and  who,  ignoring  the  counsel  of  his  fatherr 
proceeds  to  find  out  for  himself  the  same  things  that 
his  father  had  found  out  a  great  many  years  before, 
• —  and  his  father  before  him,  and  so  on  back  to  the 
beginning  of  man.  My  great-great-grandfather  on  my 
mother's  side  was  a  comparatively  recent  settler  in. 
America.  He  didn't  come  over  from  Scotland  until 
about  1750.  My  father's  people  came  over  in  the  days 
of  Lord  Baltimore.  Most  of  my  remote  ancestors  were 
very  wicked  men.  You  will  find  that  one  of  them  was 
executed  in  the  Tower  of  London  the  same  week  that 
Lady  Jane  Grey  went  to  her  death,  and  another  was 
openly  in  love  with  Mistress  Nell  Gwyn,  thereby  falling 
into  disgrace  with  a  monarch  named  Charles.  I  admit 
that  I  come  of  very  bad  stock." 

A  fleeting  twinkle  lurked  in  her  eyes. 

"  You  are  very  adroit,  Mr.  Percival." 

"  Which  is  as  much  as  to  say  that  I  have  an  agree 
able  and  interesting  way  of  lying.  Is  that  what  you 
wish  to  imply,  Mrs.  Spofford?  " 

"  Not  at  all.  I  say  you  are  adroit  because  you 
place  me  in  an  embarrassing  position.  If  I  believe 
your  confession  that  you  come  of  bad  stock,  I  must 
also  believe  that  you  come  of  an  exceedingly  good  old 
Maryland  family."  He  bowed  very  low.  "  My 
niece,  Mr.  Percival,  is  an  orphan.  I  am  and  have 
been  her  protector  since  she  was  fourteen  years  of 
age.  She  is  the  possessor  of  a  large  fortune  in  her 
own  right.  Her  father, —  who  was  my  brother, —  gave 
her  into  my  care  when  he  was  on  his  death-bed.  I 
leave  you  to  surmise  just  what  were  his  dying  words 
to  me.  She  was  his  idol.  I  have  not  failed  him  in  any 
respect.  You  ask  me  to  give  my  consent  to  your 
marriage.  I  cannot  do  so.  No  doubt  you  will  be 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

married,  just  as  you  have  planned.  She  loves  you. 
I  have  known  it  for  months.  I  have  seen  this  day  and 
hour  coming, —  yes,  I  have  seen  it  even  more  clearly 
than  she,  for  while  she  struggled  desperately  to  de 
ceive  herself  she  has  never  been  able  to  deceive  me. 
You  are  a  strong,  attractive  man.  The  glamour  of 
mystery  rests  upon  you.  You  have  done  prodigious 
deeds  here,  Mr.  Percival.  All  of  this  I  recognize,  and 
I  should  be  unfair  to  my  own  sense  of  honour  were  I 
to  deny  you  my  respect  and  gratitude.  I  must  be  fair. 
Fear  has  been  the  cause  of  my  attitude  toward  you, 

—  not  fear  of  you,  sir,  but  fear  for  my  niece.     Now  I 
am  confronted  by  the  inevitable.     The   thing  I  have 
tried  so  hard  to  avoid  has  come  to  pass.     In  these  cir 
cumstances,  I  am  forced  to  confess  that  I  have  not 
been  without  a  real,  true  admiration  for  you.     I  admit 
that  I  have  felt  a  great  security  with  you  in  command 
of  our  camp.     But,  even  so,  you  are  not  the  man  I 
would  have  chosen  to  be  Ruth's  husband.     The  time 
is  surely  coming  when  we  will  be  delivered  from  this 
island  prison,  when  we  will  return  to  the  life  and  the 
people  and  the  conditions  we  knew  before  catastrophe 
made   a   new   world   for   us.     I   am   thinking   of   that 
time,  Mr.   Percival,   and  not  of  the  present.     I   fear 
my  niece  is  thinking  only  of  the  present  and  not  of 
the  future." 

He  had  listened  with  grave  deference.  "  Forgive 
me  if  I  appear  impertinent,  Mrs.  Spofford,  but  is  it  not, 
after  all,  the  past  you  are  thinking  about?" 

She  did  not  answer  at  once.  His  question  had 
startled  her. 

"  Youth  does  not  live  in  the  past,"  he  went  on  quietly. 
"  It  deals  only  with  the  present.  I  love  Ruth  Clinton, 

—  I  love  her  with  the   cleanest  love   a  man  can  feel 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  313 

for  a  woman.  It  will  not  alter  when  we  leave  this 
island.  If  we  are  fated  to  spend  the  rest  of  our 
lives  here,  it  will  endure  to  the  end." 

"  You  are  speaking  for  yourself,"  she  said.  "  Can 
you  speak  for  Ruth?  " 

"  No,  I  cannot,"  he  admitted.  "  Nor  can  you,"  he 
added  boldly.  "  That  is  what  I  meant  when  I  asked 
if  you  were  not  thinking  chiefly  of  the  past.  I  cannot 
say  that  Ruth  will  love  me  always,  but  I  can  say  this: 
she  loves  me  now,  as  I  love  her,  and  in  her  heart  she 
has  said  just  what  I  said  to  you  a  moment  ago, —  that 
her  love  will  endure." 

"  I  daresay  I  do  think  more  of  the  past  than  of  the 
present,  Mr.  Percival.  You  are  right  about  the  future. 
It  is  a  blank  page,  to  be  glorified  or  soiled  by  what  is 
set  down  upon  it.  Fate  has  thrown  you  two  together. 
Perhaps  it  was  so  written  in  the  past  that  you  despise. 
A  single  turn  of  the  mysterious  wheel  of  fortune 
brought  you  into  her  life.  Half  a  turn, —  the  matter 
of  minutes, —  and  you  would  never  have  seen  each 
other,  and  you  would  have  gone  your  separate  ways 
to  the  end  of  time  without  even  knowing  that  the  other 
existed.  No  doubt  you  both  contend  that  you  can 
not  live  without  each  other.  It  is  the  usual  wail  of 
lovers.  But  are  you  quite  as  certain  in  your  minds 
that  you  would  have  perished  if  you  had  never  seen 
each  other?  " 

The  note  of  irony  did  not  escape  him.  He  smiled. 
"  In  that  case,  Mrs.  Spofford,  we  should  not  have  ex 
isted  at  all." 

She  shook  her  head  despairingly.  "  You  are  too 
clever  for  me,"  she  said.  "  I  warn  you,  however,  that 
I  shall  do  everything  in  my  power  to  persuade  Ruth 
to  reconsider  her  promise  to  you." 


314  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

"  Nothing  could  be  fairer  than  that,"  said  he,  with 
out  rancor.  "  If  she  comes  to  me  this  afternoon  and 
says  she  has  changed  her  mind  and  cannot  marry  me, 
I  shall  not  ask  her  again.  Will  you  be  kind  enough, 
Mrs.  Spofford,  to  include  that  in  your  argument?  It 
may  spare  her  a  lot  of  worry  and  anxiety." 

He  bowed  ceremoniously  and  took  his  departure.; 
She  went  to  the  window  and,  drawing  aside  the  curtain, 
watched  him  until  he  disappeared  down  the  road. 
Then,  as  the  curtain  fell  into  place,  she  said  to  her 
self: 

"  Their  children  will  be  strong  and  beautiful." 


CHAPTER  XIV 

A  FORTNIGHT  later,  Ruth  and  Percival  were 
married.  He  was  now  governor  of  Trigger 
Island. 

The  ceremony  took  place  at  noon  on  the  Green  in 
front  of  the  Government  Building, —  (an  imposing 
name  added  to  the  already  extensive  list  by  which  the 
"meeting-house"  was  known), —  and  was  attended  by 
the  whole  population  of  the  island.  His  desire  for  a 
simple  wedding  had  been  vigorously,  almost  violently 
opposed  by  the  people.  Led  by  Randolph  Fitts  and 
the  eloquent  Malone,  they  demanded  the  pomp  and 
ceremony  of  a  state  wedding.  As  governor  of  Trig 
ger  Island,  they  clamoured,  it  was  his  duty  to  be  married 
in  the  presence  of  a  multitude !  A  general  holiday  was 
declared,  a  great  "  barbecue  "  was  arranged  —  (minus 
the  roasted  ox), —  and  when  it  was  all  over,  the  joyous 
throng  escorted  the  governor  and  his  lady  to  the 
gaily  decorated  "  barge  "  that  was  to  transport  them 
from  the  landing  to  the  Doraine. 

Olga  Obosky  made  the  bride's  bonnet  and  veil,  and 
draped  the  latter  on  the  morning  of  the  wedding  day. 
Like  the  fabled  merchants  of  the  Arabian  Nights  she 
appeared  to  the  bride-elect  and  displayed  her  wares. 
From  the  depths  of  her  theatre  trunks  she  produced 
a  bewildering  assortment  of  laces,  chiffon,  silks,  and 
the  filmiest  of  gauzes. 

"  You  must  not  be  afraid  zat  they  will  contaminate 
you,"  she  explained,  noting  the  look  of  dismay  in 

Ruth's    eyes.     "  Zey   have   never    adorned   my   body, 

315 


316  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

zey  have  never  been  expose  to  the  speculating  eye  of 
the  public,  zey  have  not  hid  from  view  these  charms 
of  mine.  No,  these  are  fair  and  virtuous  fabrics. 
It  is  you  who  will  be  the  first  to  wear  them,  my  friend. 
Take  your  choice.  See !  Zis  piece,  is  it  not  wonder 
ful?  It  comes  from  Buda  Pesth.  One  day  it  would 
perhaps  have  caressed  my  flesh  in  the  Dance  of  the 
Sultan's  Dream, —  but,  alas, —  zat  is  not  to  be.  Feel, 
my  friend, —  take  it  in  your  hand.  See  ?  You  could 
hide  it  in  the  palm  of  one  of  them, —  and  presto ! 
Throw  it  outspread, —  and  it  is  like  a  blanket  of  mist 
filling  the  room.  It  is  priceless.  It  is  unobtainable. 
None  except  Obosky  can  afford  to  dance  in  such  im 
perial  stuff  as  this.  Take  it, —  it  is  yours.  It  is  my 
pleasure  that  you  should  have  it.  Better  far  it  should 
be  your  bridal  veil  than  to  drape  these  abandoned 
legs  of  mine." 

And  so  it  was  that  the  scant  costume  of  the  Sul 
tan's  Dream  became  the  bridal  veil  of  the  governor's 
lady. 

If  Olga  Obosky  was  sore  at  heart,  she  gave  no  sign. 
On  the  contrary,  she  revealed  the  sprightliest  interest 
in  the  coming  nuptials.  Percival  himself  had  told  her 
the  news  within  the  hour  after  his  interview  with  Mrs. 
Spofford.  In  his  blind  happiness,  he  had  failed  to 
notice  the  momentary  stiffening  of  her  body  as  if  re 
sisting  a  shock;  he  did  not  see  the  hurt,  baffled  look 
that  darkened  her  eyes  for  a  few  seconds,  and  the 
swiftly  passing  pallor  that  stole  into  her  face  and 
vanished  almost  instantly.  He  saw  only  the  challeng 
ing  smile  that  followed  close  upon  these  fleeting  signs, 
and  the  mocking  gleam  in  her  eyes. 

"  So  ?  "  she  had  said.  "  So  the  citadel  is  yours,  my 
friend.  Hail  to  the  chief!  I  salute  you.  But  con- 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  317 

sider  0  conqueror,  what  it  is  you  are  about  to  do. 
You  are  setting  a  woeful  example.  There  will  be  a 
stampede,  a  panic.  People  will  trample  each  other 
under  foot  in  ze  mad  rush  for  captivity.  The  wed 
ding  bell  will  crack  under  ze  strain  of  so  much  ring 
ing.  Everybody  will  be  getting  married,  now  zat  they 
find  it  is  so  easy  and  so  simple.  I  congratulate  you, 
my  friend.  You  have  been  very  slow, —  I  have  said 
she  was  ycurs  for  the  asking,  you  will  remember.  She 
is  good,  she  is  beautiful,  she  is  pure  gold,  my  fri::id. 
I  am  her  friend.  Do  not  ever  forget,  my  Perciv:iil,  I 
am  her  friend." 

He  flushed  warmly.  He  could  not  misinterpret  her 
meaning.  She  spoke  slowly,  deliberately.  It  was  re 
nunciation  on  her  part. 

"  I  understand,  Olga,"  he  said. 

She  smiled,  and  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"  Oh,  but  you  do  not  understand ! >?  slie  cried. 
"  You  are  so  very  much  perplexed.  It  is  enough  for 
me  that  you  are  perplexed.  I  am  content.  I  am  the 
puzzle  3Tou  will  never  solve.  So !  La  la !  You  will 
never  cease  to  wonder.  Look !  " 

She  pointed  her  finger  at  a  man  who  was  crossing 
the  Green  below  them. 

"  I  am  a  puzzle  to  zat  man  also.  He  thought  that 
he  understood." 

"Landover?     What  do  you  mean?" 

A  spasm  of  fury  transformed  her  features.  She 
hissed  out  the  words: 

"  I  did  spit  in  his  face  last  night, —  zat  is  all." 

The  thirteenth  of  April,  1918,  came  on  Saturday. 
Defying  superstition,  Ruth  selected  it  as  her  wedding 
day.  It  was  a  bright,  warm  autumn  day,  bestowed  by 
a  gallant  sun,  and  there  was  great  rejoicing  over  this 


318  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

evidence  of  God's  approval.  It  came  as  a  winter's 
whim,  for  that  night  the  skies  were  black  and  thun 
derous;  the  winds  roared  savagely  between  the  lofty 
walls  of  Split  Mountain  and  whined  across  the  decks 
of  the  slanting  Doraine,  snug  in  the  little  basin,  while 
out  on  the  boundless  deep  the  turmoil  of  hell  was 
raging. 

And  so  began  the  honeymoon  of  the  stowaway  and 
the  lady  fair,  even  as  the  "  voyage  "  of  the  jockey 
and  his  bride  had  begun  a  fortnight  before.  They 
sat  at  the  Captain's  table  in  the  ghostly,  dismantled 
saloon.  Above  them  hung  two  brightly  burnished  lan 
terns,  shedding  a  mellow  light  upon  the  festal  board. 
Outside,  the  whistling  wind,  the  swish  of  the  darkened 
waters,  the  rattle  of  davits  and  the  creak  of  the  strain 
ing  timbers. 

Up  from  his  place  at  the  head  of  the  table  rose  the 
gray  and  gallant  skipper. 

"  Up,  gentlemen,"  said  he,  his  face  aglow.  *'  I  give 
you  the  health,  the  happiness  and  the  never  diminish 
ing  glory  of  the  governor's  lady." 

"  May  she  never  be  less,"  added  the  gaunt  First 
Officer,  who  spent  his  days  ashore  watching  the  growth 
of  a  new  Doraine  and  his  nights  on  board  with  the 
failing  master  of  the  older  one. 

And  in  the  rare  old  port  from  the  Captain's  locker 
they  pledged  the  radiant  bride. 

"  A  long  voyage  and  a  merry  one !  "  cried  Mr.  Codge, 
the  purser,  as  he  drained  his  goblet  dry. 

Mr.  Furman  Nicholas  Chizler  bowed  very  gravely 
to  the  lady  on  the  Captain's  right,  and  then  to  the 
one  at  his  left. 

66  What  care  we  which  way  we  sail  so  long  as  the 
wind's  behind  us  ?  "  quoth  he. 


BOOK  THREE 


CHAPTER  I 

IN  the  far-off  Northland  it  is  winter  again, —  the 
winter  of  1919-20.  Trigger  Island  is  bright  and 
clean  with  the  furbishings  of  summer.  It  is  Jan 
uary, —  January  without  its  coat  of  white, —  January 
as  green  as  the  tender  gourd. 

There  are  a  dozen  graves  or  more  on  Cape  Sun 
rise  ;  Betty  Cruise  no  longer  lies  alone  out  on  the  wind 
swept  point.  Crudely  chiseled  on  the  rough  head 
stones  are  names  that  have  not  been  mentioned  in  this 
chronicle,  still  not  the  less  enduring.  One  name  is 
there,  however,  chipped  in  a  great  black  slab  from 
the  face  of  Split  Mountain,  that  will  never  be  forgot 
ten  as  long  as  Trigger  Island  exists :  it  is  that  of  Cap 
tain  Weatherby  Trigger. 

The  master  of  the  Doraine  died  aboard-ship  in  the 
second  winter.  After  his  death  the  ship  was  aban 
doned.  Mr.  Codge  and  the  half-dozen  old  mariners 
who  had  made  their  home  in  the  dismal  hulk  came 
ashore. 

Grim  and  ugly  and  as  silent  as  the  grave,  save  for 
the  winds  that  moan  through  her  portholes  and  corri 
dors,  she  lies  rusting  in  sun  and  storm,  a  gloomy  pres 
ence  that  fills  the  soul  with  awe.  Even  the  birds  of 
the  air  shun  her  barren  decks ;  less  fastidious  bats 
have  taken  up  their  abode  in  the  heart  of  her,  and 
spiders  great  and  small  are  at  work  on  a  sickly  shroud. 

Twenty  months  have  passed.  Christmas  and  New 
Year's  day  have  twice  been  celebrated  and  another 

Easter   Sunday   has   found  its   way  into   the   faithful 

321 


323  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

journal  of  Peter  Snipe,  and  with  them  two  amazing 
Fourths  of  July  when  there  was  coasting  on  the  long 
slopes  and  winter  sports  on  the  plains.  There  has 
been  one  bountiful  harvest  and  seed  has  been  sown 
for  yet  another.  The  full  length  of  the  sunny  plain 
is  under  cultivation.  The  bins  in  the  granaries  are 
well-filled  with  the  treasures  of  the  soil;  the  gardens 
have  increased  and  flourished ;  the  warehouse  is  stacked 
with  fresh  and  dried  fruits,  vegetables,  honey,  and 
row  upon  row  of  preserves!  Great  earthen  jars,  mod 
eled  with  all  the  severity  of  the  primitive  cave-dweller, 
serve  as  receptacles.  The  grist-mill  on  Leap  Frog 
River  is  busy  from  dawn  till  dusk ;  the  forge  rings  with 
the  music  of  hammer  and  anvil ;  a  saw-mill  in  the  heart 
of  Dismal  Forest  hums  its  whining  tune  all  day  long. 
A  noisy,  determined  engine,  fashioned  by  mechanics 
out  of  material  taken  from  the  engine  and  boiler  room 
of  the  Doraine  provides  the  motive  power  for  the  saws 
and  the  means  to  produce  ponderous,  far-reaching 
blasts  on  the  transferred  "  fog-horn." 

New  and  more  commodious  huts  have  gone  up,  roads 
have  been  blazed  through  the  forests,  a  logging  ferry 
plies  between  the  opposite  shores  of  Mott  Haven,  and 
a  ship  is  on  the  wajTs  above  the  landing  "  stage." 

At  the  top  of  Split  Mountain  stands  a  lofty  wireless 
tower.  For  months  it  has  been  spitting  vain  messages 
to  the  four  winds.  Out  of  the  great  silences  at  rare 
intervals  come  faint  flickers  of  radio  calls,  jumbled,  in 
distinct,  undecipherable, —  but,  for  all  that,  definite 
pulse  beats  of  a  far-off  life. 

Trigger  Island  went  mad  with  joy  when  the  first  of 
these  aerial  mutterings  was  reported  down  from  the 
mountain-top.  "  Only  a  question  of  time  now,"  they 
cried  in  their  delirium.  But  weeks  went  by  before 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  323 

another  sound  was  heard.  Now  the  report  of  feeble, 
long-separated  manifestations,  like  vague  spirit-rap 
pings,  no  longer  caused  excitement  or  enthusiasm, — 
only  a  rueful  shaking  of  heads. 

Lieutenant  Platt's  station  at  the  top  of  the  moun 
tain  is  a  rude,  elementary  affair,  notwithstanding  the 
many  weary,  puzzling,  disheartening  months  spent  in 
its  construction.  The  damaged,  almost  useless  dynamo 
from  the  Doraine  had  to  be  repaired  and  conveyed  to 
the  crest  of  the  eminence;  what  seemed  to  be  fruitless 
ages  were  consumed  in  devising  an  engine  with  power 
sufficient  to  produce  even  the  feeble  results  that  fol 
lowed.  And  when  the  task  of  installing  the  plant  was 
completed,  the  effective  radius  was  far  short  of  a 
hundred  miles.  Constant  efforts  were  being  made  to 
develop  greater  sending  power,  but  the  means  at  hand 
were  inadequate,  the  material  unobtainable. 

The  firing  of  the  Doraine's  gun  had  long  since  been 
discontinued.  The  supply  of  shells  being  greatly  re 
duced,  Lieutenant  Platt  decided  to  waste  no  more  of 
them,  but  to  wait  for  some  visible  evidence  that  a  ves 
sel  was  within  signalling  distance:  a  shadowy  plume  of 
smoke  on  the  far  horizon  or  the  white  tip  of  a  sail 
peeping  over  the  rim  of  the  world. 

Frugality  is  the  watchword.  The  days  of  plenty 
are  sternly  guarded  so  that  their  substance  may  not 
be  squandered;  always  there  is  the  thought  of  the  lean 
year  that  may  come,  the  year  when  the  harvests  fail 
and  famine  stalks  naked  through  the  land. 

The  first  law,  therefore,  is  thrift.  Not  thrift  in 
its  common,  accepted  sense,  based  on  the  self-denial 
of  the  individual,  but  a  systematic  shoulder-to-shoulder 
stand  for  the  general  welfare  of  the  community. 
There  is  no  such  thing  as  waste  on  Trigger  Island. 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

The  grim  spectre  of  want  and  privation  treads  softly 
behind  every  mortal  there,  and  there  is  none  who 
treats  its  invisible  presence  with  disdain.  Even  the 
wood-ashes  from  stoves  and  fireplaces  are  carefully 
hoarded  in  hoppers,  for  the  alkaline  solution  obtained 
by  treating  them  with  water  is  lye.  This  lye  is  being 
used  chiefly  in  the  production  of  a  soap  not  unlike  that 
made  by  thrifty  farmers'  wives  in  the  Argentine,  ex 
perimentation  with  the  pulpy  fruit  of  a  tree  belonging 
to  the  variety  known  as  Sapindus  marginatus  bringing 
about  rather  astonishing  results. 

For  many  months  of  the  year  the  people  wear  san 
dals  on  their  bare  feet.  Only  those  who  toil  in  the 
forests  don  the  uncouth  boots  turned  out  by  the  firm 
of  cobblers  known  as  Block  &  Nicklestick.  Shoes, 
boots  and  slippers  of  another  day  are  zealously 
guarded  by  their  owners,  in  anticipation  of  still  an 
other  day, —  the  day  of  deliverance.  "  Waste  not, 
want  not,"  is  the  motto  of  Trigger  Island. 

The  second  winter  brought  a  double  catastrophe,  and 
for  days  thereafter  deepest  gloom  prevailed.  Even  the 
stout-hearted  Percival  drooped  under  the  weight  of  it. 

Fire  wiped  out  the  work  of  months  in  the  space  of  a 
few  bleak,  bitter  hours.  The  sturdy  little  ship  that 
was  so  well  along  toward  completion  was  destroyed. 

Months  of  faithful,  patient,  dogged  toil  had  resulted 
in  the  construction  of  a  stout  hull  which  stood  proudly 
on  the  ways  to  be  admired  and  glorified  by  the  eager, 
confident  supporters  of  the  determined  little  band  of 
builders.  Six  weeks  more  would  have  seen  the  vessel 
off  the  ways  and  floating  gaily  on  the  surface  of  the 
snug  little  basin,  ready  for  the  final  touches,  the  pro 
visioning  and  the  ultimate  departure  of  the  hardy  com 
pany  that  was  to  take  her  out  into  the  open  stretches 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

in  quest  of  the  helping  hand.  For  weeks  a  devoted, 
one-minded  community  had  been  preparing  food,  rai 
ment  and  comforts  for  the  men  who  were  to  go  forth 
in  the  new  Doraine.  The  masts  and  spars  were  in 
place,  the  forecastle  and  cabin  were  almost  ready  for 
occupancy,  the  galley  was  nearing  completion, —  and 
then  came  swift,  relentless  disaster. 

The  night  was  cold  and  windy.  Down  at  the  water's 
edge,  almost  under  the  bulging  side  of  the  ship,  two 
men  had  their  quarters  at  one  end  of  the  low,  rambling 
carpenter  shop.  At  the  other  end  was  located  the 
forge.  The  very  thing  they  were  there  to  guard 
against  happened  on  this  miserable  night.  Fire  broke 
out  in  the  forge. 

The  man  on  watch  had  fallen  asleep.  His  name  was 
Smiley.  It  is  mentioned  here  for  the  only  time  in 
this  narrative. 

Shortly  before  midnight,  his  companion  was  awak 
ened  by  the  smell  of  smoke.  He  scrambled  out  of  his 
blankets  on  the  floor, —  and  cursed  the  man  who  still 
slept  in  his  chair  beside  the  smoke-befogged  lantern  on 
the  end  of  a  carpenter's  bench.  Flames  were  creeping 
along  the  wooden  partition  separating  the  forge  from 
the  shop.  Half  a  mile  away  three  hundred  men  were 
sleeping, —  but  half  a  mile  is  half  a  mile.  Before  the 
watchmen  could  sound  the  alarm,  after  their  first 
courageous  efforts  to  subdue  the  blaze,  the  building 
was  a  roaring  mass  of  flames  and  a  gleeful  wind  had 
carried  tongues  of  fire  to  the  side  of  the  vessel  where 
they  licked  shapeless  black  patterns  at  first  and  then 
swiftly  turned  them  to  red. 

Stark-eyed,  shivering  people  stood  far  back  among 
the  trees  throughout  the  rest  of  the  night  and  watched 
the  work  of  months  go  up  in  flame  and  smoke.  Noth- 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

ing  could  be  done  to  save  the  ship.  Hewn  from  the 
hardiest  trees  in  the  forest,  caulked  and  fortified  to 
defy  the  most  violent  assaults  of  water,  she  was  like 
paper  in  the  clutch  of  flames.  In  the  grey  of  early 
morn  the  stricken  people  slunk  back  to  their  cabins 
and  gave  up  hope.  For  not  only  was  their  ship  de 
stroyed  but  the  priceless  tools  and  implements  with 
which  she  had  been  built  were  gone  as  well.  It  was 
the  double  catastrophe  that  took  the  life,  the  spirit, 
out  of  them. 

And  while  the  day  was  still  breaking,  the  man  who 
had  slept  at  his  post,  stole  off  into  the  forest  and 
cut  his  throat  from  ear  to  ear. 

But  now,  months  afterward,  another  ship  is  on  the 
ways.  Indomitable,  undaunted,  the  builders  rose 
above  disaster  and  set  to  work  again.  New  tools 
were  fashioned  from  steel  and  iron  and  wood, —  saws, 
chisels,  sledges,  planes  and  hammers  —  in  fact,  every 
thing  except  the  baffling  augurs.  Resolute,  unbeaten 
hands  toiled  anew,  and  this  time  the  humble  craft  was 
not  to  be  given  a  luckless  name. 

Superstition  was  rife.  All  save  Andrew  Mott  saw 
ill-omen  in  the  name  "  Doraine."  Steadfastly  he  main 
tained  that  as  the  Doraine  had  brought  them  safely 
to  the  island,  guided  by  a  divine  Providence,  a  Do 
raine  could  be  trusted  to  take  them  as  miraculously 
away.  And  as  for  changing  the  name  of  his  prattling 
ward,  he  fairly  roared  his  objection;  though  an  un 
commonly  mild  man  for  a  sailor,  he  uttered  such  blas 
phemous  things  to  a  group  of  well-meaning  women  that 
even  Sheriff  Soapy  Shay  was  aghast. 

After  the  dreary  period  that  followed  the  disaster, 
there  came  a  sharp  awakening  as  from  a  dream  filled 
with  horrors.  Something  lying  dormant  in  the  com- 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  327 

mon  breast  had  stirred.  It  was  the  unbeaten  spirit 
that  would  not  die.  These  men  and  women  lifted  up 
their  heads  and  beheld  the  star  of  hope  undimmed. 
In  a  flash,  the  aspect  changed. 

"  We  must  start  all  over  again,"  was  the  cry  that 
awoke  them,  and  from  that  time  on  there  was  no  such 
word  as  fail  in  the  lexicon  of  Trigger  Island. 

Slowly,  laboriously  out  of  the  ashes  rose  a  new 
hull,  a  stauncher  one  than  its  ill-fated  predecessor. 
The  year  wasted  in  the  building  of  the  first  ship  was 
lamented  but  not  mourned.  Cheerfulness,  even  opti 
mism,  prevailed  throughout  the  village.  No  man,  no 
woman  lifted  the  voice  of  complaint.  Resignation  took 
the  form  of  stoicism.  A  sort  of  dogged  taciturnity 
was  measurably  relieved  by  the  never-failing  spirit  of 
camaraderie.  There  was  even  a  touch  of  bravado  in 
the  attitude  of  these  people  toward  each  other, —  as  of 
courage  kept  up  by  scoffing.  Even  Death,  on  his 
sombre  visits,  was  regarded  with  a  strange  derision  by 
those  who  continued  to  spin.  They  had  cheated  him 
not  once  but  many  times,  and  they  mocked  him  in  their 
souls. 

"  I'm  not  afraid  of  Death,"  was  Buck  Chizler's  con 
tribution.  "  I've  just  discovered  that  Death  is  the  rot- 
tenest  coward  in  the  world.  He  either  waits  till  you 
get  too  blamed  old  to  fight,  or  else  he  jumps  on  you 
when  you  ain't  looking,  or  when  you're  so  weak  from 
sickness  you  don't  care  what  happens.  I  used  to  be 
afraid  of  Death.  And  why?  Because  I  wasn't  onto 
the  old  bum.  Why,  look  at  what  he  does.  He  jumps 
onto  weeny  little  babies  and  feeble  old  women  and  — 
and  horses.  Now,  I'm  onto  him,  and  I  ain't  got  any 
use  for  a  cheap  sport, —  not  me." 

The  little  community  had  taken  to  religion.     As  is 


328  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

invariably  the  case,  adversity  seeks  surcease  in  some 
form  of  piety.  Men  who  had  not  entered  a  church 
since  the  days  of  their  childhood,  men  who  had  scoffed 
at  the  sentimentality  of  religion,  now  found  consola 
tion  in  the  thing  they  had  once  despised.  They  were 
abashed  and  bewildered  at  first,  as  one  after  another 
they  fell  into  the  habit  of  attending  services.  They 
were  surprised  to  find  something  that  they  needed, 
something  that  made  life  simpler  and  gentler  for  them, 
something  uplifting. 

"  We're  a  queer  mess  of  Puritans,"  reflected  Ran 
dolph  Fitts.  "  You  know  that  parrot  of  old  Bob 
Carr's?  Well,  he  took  it  out  and  wrung  its  neck  last 
night, —  after  all  the  time,  and  trouble,  and  patience 
he  spent  in  giving  her  a  swell  private  education. 
There  never  was  a  bird  that  could  swear  so  copiously 
as  that  bird  of  Bob's.  He  taught  her  everything  she 
knew.  He  worked  day  and  night  to  provide  her  with 
an  up-to-date  vocabulary.  He  used  to  lie  awake 
nights  thinking  up  new  words  for  old  Polly  to  con 
quer.  Now  he  says  the  blamed  old  rip  was  deceiving 
him  all  the  time.  She  began  springing  expletives  on 
him  that  he'd  never  heard  of  before  in  all  his  forty 
years  before  the  mast.  She  first  began  using  them  a 
couple  of  months  ago  when  he  undertook  to  reform  her. 
He  started  in  to  teach  her  to  say  *  good  gracious  ' 
and  '  goodness  me '  and  '  hoity-toity '  and  all  such 
stuff,  and  she  cursed  so  loud  and  so  long  that  he  had 
to  throw  a  bucket  of  water  on  her. 

"  Every  time  he  came  home  from  church,  that  red 
headed  harridan  would  open  up  on  him  with  such  a 
string  of  vituperation  that  he  had  to  hold  his  ears 
so's  not  to  forget  himself  and  backslide.  Well,  it 
got  so  that  Bob  couldn't  live  with  her  any  longer. 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  329 

She  simply  wouldn't  puritanize.  The  nearest  he  ever 
got  her  to  saying  '  good  '  was  when  she  said  it  with 
only  one  '  o,'  and  then  as  prefix  to  '  dammit.'  So 
he  decided  the  only  way  to  reform  her  was  to  murder 
her.  She  managed  to  nip  a  piece  out  of  his  hand  while 
he  was  doing  it,  however,  and  he's  had  the  hump  all 
day  because  he  fell  from  grace  and  said  something 
he'd  oughtn't  to.  Yes,  sir;  we're  a  queer  mess  of 
Puritans.  Look  at  us.  Catholics,  Presbyterians,  Bap 
tists,  Methodists,  Jews,  infidels,  Theosophists, —  even 
Christian  Scientists, —  all  rolled  up  into  one  big  bun 
dle  labeled :  *  Handle  with  Prayer.'  We  know  nearly 
all  the  Ten  Commandments  by  heart,  and  the  Beati 
tudes  flow  from  us  in  torrents.  My  wife  was  saying 
only  the  other  night  that  if  Sheriff  Shay  didn't  arrest 
that  bird  for  using  profane  language,  she'd  start  a 
petition  to  have  —  Hello,  Soapy !  I  didn't  know  you 
were  present." 

"  WThat  was  she  going  to  do  ?  "  demanded  the  Sheriff 
of  Trigger  Island. 

"  There's  no  use  telling  you  now.  It's  too  late. 
Polly  has  gone  to  a  place  I  don't  dare  mention,  so 
what's  the  use  talking  about  it  ?  " 

"  I  can't  go  '  round  pinchin'  '  fallen  parrots," 
growled  Soapy.  "  Besides,  I'm  the  feller  that  learned 
her  most  of  the  cuss-words  old  Bob  never  heard  be 
fore.  I  never  saw  a  bird  that  was  so  anxious  to  im 
prove.  She  used  to  set  there  with  her  ear  cocked,  just 
simply  crazy  to  learn  something  new.  Every  time 
she'd  see  me  coming  she'd  begin  to  hop  up  and  down 
on  her  perch  and  call  me  names,  figurin'  I'd  lose  my 
temper  and  give  her  a  tongue  lashin'.  Gosh,  I'm  glad 
she's  dead.  It  was  gettin'  to  be  an  awful  nuisance 
chasing  parrots  out  of  the  trees  back  of  Bob's  house. 


330  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

They  got  so's  they'd  come  down  there  and  set  around 
all  day  pickin'  up  things  she  said.  Somebody  told  me 
the  other  day  he  heard  a  parrot  'way  up  in  the  woods 
swearin'  like  a  sailor.  He  fired  a  club  at  it,  and  what 
do  you  think  it  said  to  him?  " 

"  If  you  weren't  such  an  ungodly  liar,  Soapy,  I'd 
ask  you,"  said  Chief  Justice  Malone. 

Soapy  regarded  him  sorrowfully. 

"  If  you  keep  on  sayin'  things  like  that,  Judge, 
I'll  have  to  tell  your  wife  you  ain't  true  to  her,"  said 
he. 

"  And  that  would  be  the  most  prodigious  lie  you 
ever  told,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Malone. 

"  Sure.  You  and  me  know  it's  a  lie,  but  you'd  ketch 
hell,  just  the  same." 


CHAPTER  II 

THE    population    of    Trigger    Island    has    in 
creased. 
Following   the    example   of    Buck    Chizler 
and  the  Governor  himself,  scores  of  dubious  lovers  took 
heart.     They   succeeded  in   dispelling   certain   misgiv 
ings   and  doubts  lurking  in  the  hearts, —  not  to   say 
consciences, —  of   approximately   three-fourths   of   the 
unmarried  women  on  the  island,  with  the  result  that 
Father  Francisco  and  Parson  Mackenzie  were  kept  ex 
ceedingly  busy  for  a  number  of  weeks. 

The  "  state,"  guided  by  the  newly  elected  Chief 
Justice,  extracted  vows  even  more  severe  than  those  in 
corporated  in  the  marriage  service.  And  yet,  despite 
the  emphatic  declarations  of  certain  candidates, — 
principally  male, —  there  remained  in  the  minds  of  all, 
—  including  brides, —  a  lingering  doubt.  On  the 
other  hand,  several  ardent  and  undoubtedly  honest 
gentlemen  were  unable  to  marry  the  objects  of  their 
affection  for  the  simple  reason  that  too  many  people 
were  able  to  recall  the  lamentations  of  the  ladies  them 
selves,  in  the  early  days  when  it  was  customary  to 
suffer  because  of  the  suspense  and  agony  their  poor 
husbands  were  enduring  at  home. 

The  case  of  Joe  Hooker  and  Matilda  Larson  was 
particularly  distressing,  and  ultimately  led  to  the  pas 
sage  of  a  rather  drastic  law  by  the  Council.  Judge 
Malone  was  the  father  of  this  law.  It  provided  for 
the  automatic  annulment  of  all  previous  marriages  at 

the  expiration  of  two  years, —  provided,  however,  the 

331 


332  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

absent  husband  or  wife  didn't  turn  up  to  contest  the 
matter.  This  law  also  granted  absolute  freedom  to 
the  absent  husband  or  wife,  who  was  thereby  author 
ized  to  remarry  without  further  notice, —  or  words 
to  that  effect.  It  was,  declared  Randolph  Fitts,  a 
perfectly  just  and  equable  law,  and  would  no  doubt 
ease  the  minds  of  quite  a  number  of  people  in  far-off 
lands, —  if  they  ever  heard  of  it. 

Joe  and  Matilda  had  been  married  nearly  two  months 
when,  in  the  thick  of  a  connubial  row,  he  demanded  her 
passport.  He  even  went  so  far  as  to  threaten  her 
with  his  if  she  didn't  produce  it  at  once.  Matilda's 
temper  was  no  milder  than  Joe's.  She  not  only  dug 
up  her  passport  but  a  marriage  certificate  as  well, 
while  all  he  could  show  was  a  passport.  It  was  a  very 
unfortunate  contretemps,  in  view  of  the  fact  that 
they  shortly  afterwards  kissed  and  "  made  up."  It 
so  happened  that  there  were  quite  a  number  of  wit 
nesses  to  the  flaunting  of  these  damaging  documents, 
and  as  Trigger  Island  was  then  in  the  first  stages  of  a 
religious  upheaval,  it  was  impossible  to  overlook  this 
definite  instance  of  iniquity.  Despite  the  recantations 
of  the  chagrined  couple, —  and,  it  must  be  added,  the 
surreptitious  disappearance  of  'the  incriminating  pa 
pers, —  the  matter  was  brought  before  the  tribunal  of 
justice.  Chief  Justice  Malone  was  equal  to  the  emer 
gency.  Indeed,  he  had  been  expecting  something  of 
the  sort,  and  was  prepared.  He  ordered  both  of  the 
interested  parties  to  bring  suit  for  divorce  from  their 
legal  spouses,  one  for  "  failure  to  provide,"  the  other 
for  "  desertion,"  and  promptly  granted  decrees,  serv 
ice  by  publication  having  been  obtained  through  the 
medium  of  the  Trigger  Island  Pioneer,  printed  monthly 
by  Peter  Snipe,  editor  and  publisher,  limited  to  an 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  333 

edition  of  one,  owing  to  the  scarcity  of  paper,  and 
posted  conspicuously  for  all  subscribers  on  the  bulle 
tin  board  in  front  of  the  "  government  building." 
Additional  spice  was  lent  to  the  affair  by  the  surpris 
ing  reluctance  of  Joe  and  Matilda  to  re-enter  the  para 
dise  from  which  they  had  been  ejected.  Apparently 
they  had  had  enough  of  each  other.  Moreover,  they 
had  both  "  got  religion  "  and  insisted  on  repenting  at 
leisure,  separately  and  alone.  But  people  took  a  very 
decided  stand  in  the  matter.  They  could  repent  in 
any  manner  they  liked  after  Matilda's  baby  was  born, 
but  not  before.  And  so  they  were  married  once  more, 
and,  strange  to  relate,  livei  happily  and  contentedly 
thereafter. 

Now,  while  all  this  may  strike  the  reader  as  foot 
less  and  trivial,  it  really  has  a  distinct  place  in  the 
chronicles  of  Trigger  Island.  If,  perforce,  the  writer 
has  succeeded  in  treating  the  situation  facetiously,  it 
should  not  be  assumed  that  the  people  of  Trigger 
Island  had  any  desire  or  inclination  to  be  funny  about 
it.  On  the  contrary,  they  took  it  very  seriously,  and 
quite  naturally  so,  if  one  stops  to  consider  the  narrow 
confines  by  which  their  very  existence  was  bounded. 
There  were  no  such  things  as  "  trifles  "  in  the  daily  life 
of  Trigger  Island.  The  smallest  incident  took  on  the 
importance  of  an  event,  the  slightest  departure  from 
the  ordinary  at  once  became  significant.  In  other 
circumstances,  these  people  would  have  been  vastly 
amused  by  the  quixotic  settlement  of  the  affairs  of  Joe 
and  Matilda;  they  would  have  grinned  over  the  ex 
traordinary  decree  of  Justice  Malone,  and  they  would 
have  taken  it  all  with  an  indulgent  wink.  As  a  matter 
of  fact,  they  were  stern-faced  and  intense.  They  had 
made  laws  of  their  own,  they  had  established  a  code. 


334  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

The  violation  of  either  was  not  to  be  countenanced. 
It  was  of  no  consequence  to  them  that  Judge  Malone's 
methods  were  without  precedent,  that  they  were  not 
even  a  travesty  in  the  true  light  of  the  law. 

No  one  was  more  soberly  in  earnest  than  Michael 
Malone  himself.  The  proceedings  were  carried  out 
with  the  utmost  dignity  and  formality.  There  were 
no  smiles,  no  jocose  comments. 

Nothing  will  serve  more  clearly  to  illustrate  the  sense 
of  isolation  to  which  the  people  of  Trigger  Island  had 
resigned  themselves  than  the  fact  that  they  accepted 
the  Judge's  decision  and  the  subsequent  marriage  as 
absolutely  unassailable,  either  from  a  legal  or  an  ethi 
cal  point  of  view. 

The  town  itself  was  flourishing.  Traffic  and  com 
merce  were  carried  on  in  the  most  systematic,  organ 
ized  manner.  Everybody  was  busy.  The  utter  im 
possibility  for  one  man  or  set  of  men  to  profit  at  the 
expense  of  others  naturally  put  a  curb  upon  ambitions, 
but  it  did  not  subdue  the  spirit  of  enterprise. 

There  is  a  baby  in  the  Governor's  Mansion, —  a 
lusty  boy  with  blue  eyes  and  an  engaging  smile.  He 
is  four  months  old,  and  his  name  is  already  a  house 
hold  word  on  Trigger  Island.  It  is  not  Algernon, 
nor  is  it  Adonis.  It  is  John;  —  John  Clinton  Per- 
cival. 

The  Governor's  Mansion  is  a  pretentious  structure. 
It  has  four  rooms  and  a  bath!  A  wide  porch  extends 
along  the  full  front  of  the  house,  with  a  steeply  pitched 
awning  protecting  it  from  the  rain  and  sun.  At  one 
end  of  the  porch  is  a  very  cosy  arrangement  of  hand- 
wrought  chairs  and  a  commodious  swinging  seat.  The 
other  end,  just  off  the  parental  bed-chamber,  has  been 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  335 

converted  into  an  out-door  sleeping-room  for  John  C. 
Percival.  The  Governor's  lady  has  no  nursemaid. 
She  does  her  own  housework,  her  own  washing  and  iron 
ing,  and  she  takes  care  of  her  own  baby.  (There  is 
no  such  thing  on  Trigger  Island  as  a  servant.  More 
than  one  woman  who  reads  this  tale  will  sigh  and 
murmur  something  about  Paradise.)  Ruth  still 
teaches  in  the  little  school.  Though  she  is  the  first 
lady  of  the  land,  she  supports  herself,  she  earns  her 
daily  bread.  It  is  the  law  irrevocable.  There  are 
no  distinctions.  Nor  would  she  have  it  otherwise. 

The  "  Mansion,"  as  it  was  universally  called,  stands 
alone  at  the  upper  end  of  the  Green,  facing  the  meet 
ing-house.  The  nearest  hut  is  at  least  two  hundred 
yards  away.  Work  on  its  construction  was  begun 
the  day  after  the  wedding.  For  weeks  men  had  toiled 
eagerly,  enthusiastically,  voluntarily,  and  in  the  first 
gay  days  of  spring  it  was  completed.  Since  then  the 
same  hands,  the  same  thoughts,  the  same  interests  were 
constantly  employed  in  improvements, —  not  only  to 
the  house  itself  but  to  the  grounds  about  it.  The 
Governor's  "  Mansion  "  became  the  plaything  of  the 
people.  Percival's  protests  were  received  with  ami 
able  grins. 

"  It's  our  house,  boss, —  not  yours,"  explained  Buck 
Ghizler,  whose  spare  time  was  largely  expended  in 
the  development, —  you  might  almost  say,  the  financing, 
— •>  of  a  flower-bed  on  the  lawn.  It  was  to  be  the  finest 
flower-bed  of  them  all,  he  swore.  "  This  is  govern 
ment  property  and  we,  the  people,  are  going  to  do 
what  we  please  with  it." 

"  That's  all  very  fine,  Buck,  but  don't  you  think  you 
ought  to  be  spending  your  spare  hours  with  your  wife, 
instead  of  puttering  around  here?  " 


336  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

"  Do  you  know  who  the  boss  of  this  job  is?  My 
wife.  I'm  nothing  but  an  ordinary  day-laborer,  a 
plain  Mick,  a  sort  of  a  Wop,  obeying  orders.  Good 
gosh,  you  don't  think  I've  got  brains  enough  to  design 
this  flower-bed,  do  you?  No,  sirree!  It  takes  an 
artist  to  think  up  a  design  like  this.  When  I  get  all 
these  rocks  in  place  according  to  plans  you'll  see  what 
I  mean.  It'll  be  a  hum-dinger,  A.  A.  This  here 
thing  running  off  this  way  is  the  tail.  Come  over  here 
and  look  at  it  from  this  side, —  it's  upside  down  from 
where  you're  standin'." 

"Tail?     Tail  of  what?" 

"  Tail  of  a  horse.  This  is  going  to  be  a  horse  when 
it's  finished." 

"My  God!" 

Buck  was  not  above  being  irritated  by  the  disma}7 
in  Percival's  voice. 

"  Minnie's  got  her  heart  set  on  it,  A.  A.,"  he  ex 
plained.  "  It's  going  to  be  a  sorrel  horse,  you  see, — 
with  a  blue  tail  and  a  red  head.  Mustard,  holly 
hocks  and  geraniums  is  what  she's  going  to  plant  here 
when  I  get  the  bed  fixed.  Socrates, —  he  was  the  best 
horse  I  ever  straddled, —  he  was  a  sorrel.  I  took  him 
down  the  —  " 

"  As  far  as  you've  got,  Buck,  it  looks  more  like  a 
dachshund  than  a  horse,"  observed  Percival. 

Buch  eyed  his  work  deprecatingly.  "  That's  be 
cause  there  ain't  space  enough.  I  had  to  either  saw 
his  legs  off  or  else  have  him  layin'  down.  Minnie  had 
him  kneelin'  in  her  first  sketch,  but  gosh,  it  was  the 
funniest  thing  you  ever  saw.  It  ain't  possible  for  a 
horse  to  kneel  with  his  hind  legs,  but  she  had  him  doin' 
it  all  right, —  kneeling  forward,  at  that,  with  his  tail 
stickin'  straight  up  so's  it  wouldn't  be  in  the  way  of 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  337 

his  heels.  It's  all  Jack  Wales's  fault.  He  simply 
would  put  that  blamed  sun-dial  of  his  right  in  the  mid 
dle  of  this  plot, —  and  these  doggoned  gravel-walks 
running  every  which  way  give  me  the  blind-staggers. 
Why,  A.  A.,  you  got  more  gravel  walks  here  than 
they've  got  in  Central  Park.  And  all  these  scrubby 
hedges,  stone  walls,  fountains,  flower-beds,  cedar  freaks, 
—  my  God,  Perce,  I'd  hate  to  come  home  a  little 
squiffed  if  I  lived  in  that  house  of  yours, — 'specially 
at  night.  Look  at  old  Pedro  and  Philippa  over  there, 
setting  out  that  stuff  that  looks  like  sparrowgrass. 
And  that  prize  job  of  Ed  Keller's, —  my  God,  A.  A., 
what  good  is  a  dog  kennel  on  this  island?  There  ain't 
a  dog  inside  a  thousand  miles.  The  only  one  we  ever 
had  was  that  poodle  old  Mrs.  Velasco  had,  and  it  died 
before  —  " 

"  That  isn't  a  kennel,  Buck." 

"  It  ain't?     Well,  what  is  it?  " 

"  It's  a  Swiss  chalet." 

"  What  does  Ed  Keller   know  about  Swiss  chalets?  " 

"  Nothing, —  absolutely  nothing,  Buck,"  admitted 
Percival  forcibly. 

A  tall,  perfectly  straight  flagpole  graced  the  exten 
sive  "  front-yard,"  and  from  its  peak  floated  the  flag 
of  Trigger  Island, —  a  great  white  pennon  with  a  red 
heart  in  the  centre,  symbolic  of  love,  courage,  fidelity. 
But  on  the  tip  of  Split  Mountain  the  Stars  and  Stripes 
still  waves  from  sunrise  to  sunset. 

The  new  cabins  are  farther  up  the  slope  of  the 
mountains,  overlooking  what  is  now  called  the  "  old  " 
town.  There  is  something  fairy-like  in  the  picture 
one  sees  at  night  from  the  Green  below.  Dozens  of 
lighted  windows  gleam  softly  through  the  foliage,  for 
all  the  world  like  witches'  lamps.  The  day  reveals 


S38  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

thin,  blue  plumes  of  smoke  stealing  out  of  the  tops  of 
the  trees  to  be  wafted  off  into  nothingness ;  they  come 
from  invisible  chimneys  far  down  in  the  leafy  fast 
nesses.  Up  here  are  the  huts  of  the  newly  married. 
Almost  without  exception,  they  are  tiny  affairs, 
scarcely  larger  than  the  metaphorical  bandbox. 
Each  contains  two  rooms. 

During  the  very  hot  weather  in  January  and  Febru 
ary,  the  long,  curving  beach  is  alive  with  oddly  dressed 
bathers  and  idlers.  This  is  at  midday  only,  when  the 
sun  is  so  hot  and  fierce  that  all  work  ceases  for  two 
hours  or  more.  Though  the  sun  is  hot,  the  water  is 
never  warm.  A  dip  in  the  surf  is  all  that  any  one  save 
the  hardiest  cares  to  take.  They  loll  on  the  cool  white 
sands,  under  improvised  shelters  made  of  boughs,  or 
indulge  in  spirited  games  on  the  long  level  stretches. 
This  is  the  play-hour  of  the  people  throughout  the  hot 
months  of  summer.  They  "  knock  off "  work  of  all 
sorts,  and  seek  relief  from  the  stifling  heat  of  the  wood 
land  in  the  cool  wet  sands  along  the  shore. 

The  costumes  are  strange  and  varied;  some  are 
pretty,  others  almost  ludicrous.  Small  children  ap 
pear  in  a  scant  breech-cloth;  women  of  all  ages  and 
proportions  wear  a  sort  of  one-piece  "  jumper,"  arms 
bare  and  legs  uncovered  up  to  the  knees.  The  men 
affect  nothing  except  trunks  made  from  coffee  sacks. 
The  few  real  bathing-suits  belong  to  such  experienced 
travellers  as  Nicklestick,  Shine  and  the  Blocks, —  regu 
lar  and  persistent  patrons  of  the  hotels  at  Atlantic 
City,  Palm  Beach  and  Rockaway.  They  never  travel 
without  a  full  and  complete  equipment.  Mr.  Nickle 
stick,  very  superior  in  his  red  two  piece  "  costume,'* 
goes  so  far  as  to  contend  that  a  man  never  should  be 
without  a  bathing-suit,  because,  says  he,  "  it  takes  up 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  339 

no  room  in  your  trunk,  and  if  you  leave  it  at  home  some 
one  else  is  sure  to  stretch  it  so's  you  can't  use  it  your 
self  again." 

Olga  Obosky  and  her  three  dancing-girls,  Careni- 
Amori,  and  several  of  the  Brazilian  ladies  possess  Os- 
tend  costumes  in  which  they  disport  themselves  with 
complacent  disregard  for  public  opinion,  favourable  or 
otherwise. 

"  She's  got  'em  all  skinned  a  mile,"  was  Morris 
Shine's  comment  upon  Olga's  lithe,  graceful  figure. 
"Ain't  that  so,  Abey?" 

The  remark  was  addressed  to  Abel  Landover. 

"  Even  so,"  returned  that  gentleman,  glaring  at  the 
offender,  "  it  doesn't  give  you  the  right  to  call  me 
Abey.  You've  got  to  cut  it  out,  Shine.  Under 
stand?" 

"  Sure,"  said  the  affable  Morris.  "  Only  I've  got  a 
brother  named  Abraham,  and  that  was  my  father's 
name  too.  It  comes  natural  to  me  to —  Why,  by 
gracious,  she's  got  the  Venus  Belvedere  lashed  to  the 
mast.  Did  you  ever  see  — " 

"  I've  never  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  the  Venus 
Belvedere,"  interrupted  Landover  coldly. 

"  You  haven't  ?  "  exclaimed  Morris,  amazed.  "  The 
armless  wonder?  You  ain't  seen  her?  Why,  she's 
supposed  to  have  the  most  perfect  figger  in  the  world.: 
Maybe  you've  seen  her  without  knowing  what  her  name 
is.  They  never  put  the  name  on  it,  simply  because 
every  school  boy  and  girl  is  supposed  to  know  who  it 
is  without  being  told.  Funny  you  don't  know  —  Oh, 
she  ain't  alive,  you  know, —  she  ain't  real.  She's  a 
statue, —  thousands  of  'em  turned  out  every  year. 
Gee,  the  feller  that  designed  that  statue  must  have 
cleaned  up  a  pile.  But,  as  I  was  saying,  our  little  old 


340  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

Olga  has  got  her  —  Say,  did  you  ever  see  a  figger  like 
that?" 

"  Yes,"  broke  in  Landover  shortly, — "  thousands  of 
them." 

Mr.  Shine  looked  sceptical.  "Well,"  he  said  after 
a  moment's  reflection,  and  with  studied  politeness, — 
having  already  offended  at  the  outset,  "  all  I  got  to  say 
is,  you  talk  like  a  woman,  that's  all  I  got  to  say." 

Landover  was  a  greatly  changed  man  in  these  days. 
There  had  come  a  crisis  in  the  affairs  of  Trigger  Island, 
not  many  weeks  before  the  second  annual  election  in 
April,  when  he  was  obliged  to  show  his  true  colours. 
The  banker  suddenly  realized  with  a  shock  that  he  was 
actually  involved  in  a  well-organized,  though  secret 
plot  to  overthrow  the  so-called  "  government."  He 
had  been  completely  deceived  by  the  wily  Manuel  Crust 
and  several  of  his  equally  wily  friends.  They  pro 
fessed  to  be  organizing  an  opposition  party  to  oust 
the  dictatorial  Percival  and  his  clique  from  office  at  the 
ensuing  election, —  a  feat,  they  admitted,  that  could 
be  accomplished  only  by  the  most  adroit  and  covert 
"  educational  "  campaign,  "  under  the  rose  "  perforce, 
but  justifiable  in  the  circumstances.  They  had  led 
Landover  to  believe  that  he  was  their  choice  for  gov 
ernor.  They  went  among  the  people,  insidiously  sow 
ing  the  seeds  of  discontent,  hinting  at  the  advantages 
to  be  obtained  by  the  election  of  an  entirely  new  set 
of  officers,  mostly  from  among  the  people  themselves, 
but  headed  by  the  ablest  man  on  the  island, —  Abel  T. 
Landover.  They  argued  that  as  treasurer  and  comp 
troller  of  currency  he  had  shown  himself  to  be  the  only 
man  qualified  to  direct  the  affairs  of  the  people. 

And  Landover  believed  them.  Despite  his  superior 
intelligence  and  his  vaunted  ability  to  size  up  his  fellow 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  341 

man,  he  was  as  blind  and  unsuspecting  as  a  child  when 
it  came  to  penetrating  the  real  motives  of  the  con 
spirators.  Vain,  self-important,  possessed  of  an  ab 
normal  conceit,  men  of  his  type  go  ahead  ruthlessly, 
ignoring  the  details,  bent  only  on  achieving  the  ulti 
mate.  In  Landover's  case,  he  made  the  fatal  error  of 
underestimating  the  craftiness  of  Manuel  Crust ;  he 
looked  upon  him  as  a  blatant,  ignorant  ruffian  of  the 
stripe  best  known  to  him  as  a  "  beer  saloon  politician," 
—  and  known  only  by  hearsay,  at  that.  He  regarded 
himself  as  the  master-politician  and  Crust  as  a  con 
temptible  necessity. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  Crust  was  using  him  to  very 
materially  advance  his  own  ends.  The  big  Portuguese 
had  a  very  definite  purpose  in  mind.  He  had  no  more 
intention  of  making  Landover  the  chief  man  of  the 
island  than  he  had  of  flying  to  the  moon.  He, —  Man 
uel  Crust, —  was  to  have  that  distinction !  He  de 
spised  Landover  and  all  that  he  represented.  He  hated 
him  because  he  was  rich,  educated,  favoured  by  for 
tune, —  and  given  to  washing  himself  with  unnecessary 
frequency  and  thoroughness.  Manuel  was  foul  of  body 
as  well  as  foul  at  heart.  He  bitterly  resented  the  sani^ 
tary  rules  set  up  and  enforced  by  the  Council  because 
those  rules  interfered  with  what  he  was  pleased  to  call 
his  personal  liberty.  Why  should  he  be  required  to 
wash  himself  if  he  didn't  want  to  do  so?  And  why 
should  he  do  a  great  many  silly  things  that  Dr.  Cullen 
ordered,  just  because  a  lot  of  aristocrats  were  in  the 
habit  of  doing  them? 

His  hatred  of  Landover,  however,  was  impersonal. 
The  banker  merely  represented  a  class.  On  the  other 
hand,  he  hated  Percival  as  an  individual ;  he  hated  him 
with  every  drop  of  blood  in  his  black,  venomous  heart. 


34,2  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

He  had  a  certain  grudging  regard, —  it  might  even  be 
called  respect, —  for  the  class  to  which  Landover  be 
longed;  he  was  sometimes  conscious  of  a  strange  but 
quite  positive  sense  of  his  own  inferiority.  But  he  did 
not  for  an  instant  put  Percival  in  the  class  with  Land- 
over.  He  looked  upon  the  young  American  as  being  no 
better  than  himself,  and  yet  the  people  from  the  Doraine 
had  showered  honours  upon  him,  had  made  him  their 
chief,  had  suffered  him, —  a  vagabond  without  a  penny 
to  his  name, —  to  marry  the  fairest  and  rarest  woman 
of  them  all.  What  right  had  this  interloper  to  every 
thing  that  was  worth  having,  while  he,  an  honest  fellow 
who  always  had  paid  his  way,  was  denied  even  the 
smallest  place  in  the  councils  of  the  land  ?  What  right 
had  he,  a  tramp,  to  sit  upon  a  throne? 

Landover  was  an  unwitting,  but  thoroughly  self- 
satisfied  dupe.  He  fitted  in  very  nicely  with  Manuel's 
plan  to  gain  control  of  the  island.  There  were  certain 
people  who  regarded  the  great  banker  as  an  apostle,  a 
man  to  follow,  to  be  imitated, —  such  men  as  Block, 
Nicklestick  and  a  few  others.  Was  he  not  one  of  tire 
great  financial  geniuses  of  the  day?  Was  he  not  a 
power,  a  tremendous  power,  in  the  banking  world? 
Was  he  not  a  man  who  understood  how  to  transform  a 
dollar  into  a  business  block  almost  over  night?  For 
a  time,  sentiment  had  played  tricks  with  their  boasted 
astuteness.  Swept  along  by  the  current,  they  had 
failed  to  appreciate  the  true  conditions.  They  began 
to  realize  that  it  had  been  a  mistake  to  keep  such  men 
as  Percival  in  power;  behind  the  hand  they  went  about 
convincing  each  other  that  it  was  high  time  to  rectify 
the  original  error.  These,  in  addition  to  the  ignorant, 
easily  persuaded  rabble  from  the  steerage, —  who,  by 
the  way,  could  give  ample  testimony  as  to  Percival's 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  S43 

ability  to  "  bluff," —  provided  Crust  with  a  decidedly 
formidable  following.  The  steerage  people  had  but  to 
be  reminded  of  the  time  when  Percival  tricked  them  so 
successfully. 

Crust  contended  that  if  the  American  could  fool 
them  once,  he  would  do  so  again, —  in  fact,  he  went 
so  far  as  to  say  that  he  had  been  doing  it  all  the  time. 

There  was  nothing  open  and  above  board  about  the 
methods  of  Manuel  Crust.  He  proceeded  about  the 
business  of  fomenting  dissatisfaction  and  strife  with  an 
artfulness  surprising  in  one  of  his  type.  At  no  time 
did  he  openly  denounce  the  "  government."  He  was 
very  careful  about  that.  A  jesting  word  here,  a  deri 
sive  smile  there,  a  shrug  of  the  shoulders, —  and  in  good 
time  others  less  politic  than  himself  began  to  do  the 
talking.  Others  began  to  complain  of  the  high-handed, 
dictatorial  manner  in  which  Percival  and  his  friends 
ruled  the  community. 

The  secret,  stealthy  opposition  grew  apace ;  it  as 
sumed  sinister  proportions, —  all  the  more  sinister  be 
cause  it  was  masked  by  every  outward  sign  of  submis 
sion.  Crust  had  won  friends  right  and  left  among 
the  very  people  who  would  have  killed  him  not  so  many 
months  before  but  for  the  very  man  he  was  planning 
to  destroy. 

Outwardly  he  had  changed, —  not  subtly,  it  is  true, 
—  from  a  sullen,  threatening  bully  into  a  hearty,  smil 
ing,  sympathetic  comrade  who  laid  himself  out  to  be 
obliging.  Even  Percival  was  puzzled,  if  not  deceived, 
by  this  surprising  transformation. 


CHAPTER  III 

IT  was  Olga  Obosky  who  discovered  and  exposed  the 
plot.     A  young  Spaniard  had  fallen  hopelessly, 
madly  in  love  with  her.     He  was  a  good-looking, 
hard-eyed  boy  from  the  pampas, —  a  herder  who  was  on 
his  way  to  visit  his  mother  in  from  Rio,     He  was  a 
"  gun-slinger,?*  bearing  close  relationship  to  the  type 
of  cowboy  that  existed  in  the  old  days  of  the  Far  West 
but  who  is  now  extinct  save  for  pictorial  perpetuation 
on  the  moving-picture  screens. 

Down  in  his  wild  young  heart  smouldered  a  furious 
jealousy  of  Percival.  Crust  played  upon  this  jealousy 
to  fine  effect.  He  did  not  hesitate  to  feed  the  flame 
with  sly  speculations,  innuendos  and  even  tales  concern 
ing  Percival  and  Olga. 

One  day  the  Spaniard,  in  the  midst  of  his  violent 
protestations  and  pleadings,  became  reckless  with  prom 
ises  to  Olga.  He  swore  that  if  she  would  have  him 
he  would  make  her  the  first  lady  of  the  land  in  place 
of  the  stupid  American  girl  who  now  held  the  honour. 
Then,  having  loosed  his  tongue,  he  poured  out  the 
whole  of  the  ugly  scheme  which  was  to  alter  every  exist 
ing  condition  on  the  island.  The  wiping  out  of  the 
dictator  and  his  swell-headed  gang  of  "  intellectuals  " ; 
the  seizure  of  all  firearms,  ammunition  and  stores ;  the 
complete  subjugation  of  the  people,  even  to  the  point 
of  slavery;  the  elevation  of  Manuel  Crust  and  his  fol 
lowers  to  a  state  of  absolute  power;  the  confiscation  of 
all  property, —  including  women !  He  naively  advised 

her  to  jump  at  the  chance  offered  her,— the  chance  to 

344 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  345 

avoid  the  most  unpleasant  feature  of  the  new  regime. 

"  As  my  woman,"  he  said,  "  you  will  be  safe.  It  is 
understood.  It  is  all  arranged.  If  you  belong  to  me, 
nothing  can  happen  to  you.  We  shall  be  of  the  elect. 
I  am  to  be  of  the  council.  I  am  to  be  one  of  the  mas 
ters,  the  — " 

"  But,"  she  cried,  scarcely  able  to  believe  her  ears, 
"how  is  all  this  to  be  accomplished?  How  will  the 
few  overcome  the  many?  You  say  there  are  scarcely 
more  than  a  dozen  of  you,  my  friend.  What  can  a 
dozen  men  do  to  — " 

"  It  will  be  simple,"  cried  he,  his  eyes  flaming. 
"  How  is  it  that  ^ercival  and  his  little  gang  hold  all 
of  us  in  bondage?  It  is  because  they  have  the  guns, 
the  revolvers,  the  bullets.  Well,  we  shall  have  the  guns, 
and  everything.  WThen  the  time  comes,  when  the  people 
have  voted  in  the  election  and  a  new  party  is  in  con 
trol,  then  we  will  have  our  chance.  We  will  have  the 
upper  hand.  To  hell  with  the  people,  Olga.  They 
will  count  for  nothing  once  we  have  charge  of  the  guns 
and  stores.  This  Percival  he  has  ordered  the  election. 
He  insists  that  the  people  be  given  a  chance  to  vote 
once  a  year,  to  elect  some  one  to  take  his  place  if  they 
feel  like  it.  He  says  it  is  only  fair.  Faugh !  He 
laughs  in  his  sleeve.  Come!  Your  promise!  I  love 
you.  I  must  have  you  for  my  woman.  I  cannot  live 
without  you.  I  will  give  you  power  to  spit  in  the 
face  of  that  woman  down  there  —  that  American  aris 
tocrat!  We  will  be  rich,  we  will  be  happy,  we  will 
have  everything.  Diamonds  and  pearls  and  rubies  and 
all  the  gold  there  is  on  this  island.  We  will  be  the 
ones  to  go  away  in  the  ship,  and  we  will  have  jewels  to 
shame  the  richest  of  them." 

"  We  —  you  and  Manuel  and  the  rest  —  are  to  go 


346  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

away  in  the  ship  ?  "  she  cried,  cold  to  the  marrow  of  her 
bones. 

"  Sure.  Why  not?  Are  we  not  to  be  the  owners 
of  that  ship?  It  is  your  chance  to  go  back  to  the 
world  again, —  with  me !  Oh,  and  I  agree  to  this  also : 
If  you  do  not  want  me  any  longer  after  you  are  in 
Rio  or  Buenos  Aires  or  anywhere  out  there, —  if  you 
would  rather  be  free  again, —  I  promise  to  release  you. 
What  could  be  fairer  than  that?  Nothing!  I  shall 
kill  myself,  of  course,  when  you  leave  me, —  but  still 
I  promise,  and  I  never  break  a  promise.  But  I  shall 
love  you  so  much  that  you  will  never  leave  me.  You 
are  my  queen.  Hell,  how  I  love  you  —  how  I  love 
you ! "  His  face  darkened,  then  slowly  paled.  He 
realized  that  he  had  gone  too  far.  Leaning  close  to 
her,  his  frightened  eyes  not  a  foot  from  hers,  he  said: 
"  You  cannot  deny  me  now.  I  have  told  you  every 
thing.  I  do  not  know  why  I  have  told  you.  I  must 
be  crazy  with  love  of  you.  Ah, —  the  look  in  your 
beautiful  eyes!  God,  how  it  takes  the  weight  off  my 
mind.  You  will  love  me, —  you  will  be  mine, —  I  see  it 
in  your  eyes.  When?  When?" 

She  affected  a  bantering  smile.  She  knew  how  to 
play  with  such  fools  as  he. 

"  Do  you  think  I  am  a  fool?  How  do  I  know  you 
are  not  lying  to  me  about  all  this?  It  may  be  a  trick 
to  influence  me.  No,  no !  I  am  not  such  a  simpleton. 
You  promise  me  diamonds,  and  gold,  and  —  much  love. 
You  promise  to  take  me  away  from  this  dreadful  place 
on  a  ship,  back  to  the  world  I  worship.  But  you  may 
be  lying.  I  must  have  something  better  than  your 
word,  my  friend." 

"  But  I  am  telling  you  the  truth.  I  swear  it !  "  he 
cried  eagerly. 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  347 

"  Keep  your  hands  off  of  me, —  do  you  hear !  Don't 
touch  me !  Not  yet,  not  yet.  I  must  have  some  proof 
that  you  can  give  me  all  these  things  you  offer.  Will 
you  have  Manuel  Crust  guarantee  that  — " 

"  My  God, —  Manuel, —  he  must  not  know  I  have 
spoken  to  you.  He  must  never  know,"  he  gasped. 
"  Take  my  word, —  believe  me,  beloved  one.  It  is  the 
God's  truth  I  tell  you.  Within  the  month  I  will  lay 
diamonds,  pearls, —  everything, —  at  your  feet.  I  — " 

"  Leave  me  now.  Come  again, —  tomorrow.  I  must 
think.  I  must  — " 

"But  you  will  love  me?  You  will  come  to  me? 
You  — " 

"  You  are  a  very  handsome  boy,"  she  said  softly, 
"  and  I  should  like  to  believe  you." 

He  followed  her  for  a  few  steps,  trouble  in  his 
eyes. 

"  It  is  not  enough.  I  must  have  your  promise,"  he 
said. 

She  looked  at  him  coldly.  "  You  will  have  it  when 
I  am  ready  to  give  it,"  she  said,  and  his  face  lightened 
for  a  moment,  only  to  darken  again. 

"  I  will  cut  your  heart  out  if  you  breathe  a  word  of 
this  to  any  one,"  he  whispered  hoarsely. 

"Is  that  the  way  for  a  lover  to  speak?"  she  re 
turned. 

"  Yes,"  he  said  without  hesitation.  "  It  is  the  way 
—  with  me." 

"  Come  to  me  tomorrow  and  tell  me  exactly  what  my 
share  of  the  treasure  is  to  be, —  and  then  I  will  let  you 
know  whether  it  is  to  be  you  —  or  Manuel  Crust,  my 
friend.  Oh,  you  see,  I  am  greedy, —  and  I  can  love 
Manuel  quite  as  easily  as  I  can  love  — " 

"  I  will  cut  his  heart  out  if  you  — " 


348  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

"  There  —  there !  It  will  not  be  necessary.  Come 
tomorrow." 

That  same  afternoon  she  went  to  Percival  with  the 
Spaniard's  story. 

"  Well,  we'll  nip  that  in  the  bud,"  said  he,  setting  his 
jaw.  "  The  first  thing  to  do  is  to  warn  Landover." 

"  Warn  Landover !  "  cried  the  Russian.  "  He  is  all 
mix  up  in  it, —  he  is  one  of  ze  ringleaders." 

"  No,  he  isn't.  He's  not  that  kind  of  a  man.  He 
doesn't  know  a  thing  about  all  this,  I'll  stake  my  life 
on  it." 

"  But,  Olga,"  cried  Ruth,  white-faced  and  troubled ; 
"Fernandez  will  kill  you.  He  will, —  Good  heaven, 
girl,  did  he  not  swear  to  cut  your  heart  out  if 
you  — " 

"  Poof !  "  cried  the  other,  snapping  her  fingers.  "  He 
will  not  do  zat,  my  dear.  I  am  not  afraid.  Do  you 
know  what  happens  to  informers  in  my  country?  They 
vanish.  No  one  ever  sees  them  again,  and  no  one  ever 
asks  where  they  have  gone.  They  are  here  today  — 
tomorrow  they  are  not.  It  is  the  same  the  world 
over." 

"  You  mean, —  Manuel's  men  will  make  way  with 
him?  How  horrible !  " 

"  Do  not  waste  your  sympathy  on  zat  Fernandez. 
He  is  no  good.  You  would  see  what  kind  of  man  he 
is  if  this  plot  should  succeed." 

"  But  you  will  have  to  give  him  your  answer  to 
morrow,"  cried  Ruth. 

Olga  shot  a  keen  glance  at  Percival's  face. 

"  It  is  for  you  to  say,  Percivail,  what  my  answer 
shall  be,"  said  she,  after  a  slight  pause.  A  queer 
pallor  spread  over  her  face. 

"  For  me  to  say?  "  he  exclaimed. 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  349 

"Are  you  not  the  governor?  If  it  suits  your  plans 
for  me  to  give  myself  to  zat  man  — " 

"  My  God,  Olga !  What  the  devil  are  you  driving 
at?"  " 

" —  to  satisfy  him  until  you  are  prepared  to  nip  zis 
revolution  in  the  bud,  as  you  say, —  I  shall  — " 

"  Thunderation !  "  he  gasped.  "  You  mean  you 
would  sacrifice  yourself  —  Great  Scot !  What  do 
you  think  I'm  expecting  to  do?  Go  to  sleep  for  a 
month  or  so  ?  Bless  your  heart,  my  dear  Olga,  if  you 
are  even  thinking  of  getting  married  to  Fernandez, 
you'll  have  to  be  pretty  spry  about  it.  Because  I'm 
going  to  nip  the  business  in  the  bud  before  tomorrow 
morning." 

"  Zat  is  what  I  thought,"  said  she,  the  colour  rush 
ing  back  to  her  face. 

That  evening  Percival  called  a  meeting  of  the  "  cab 
inet," —  as  the  council  was  now  called.  They  were 
asked  to  come  to  his  home,  instead  of  to  the  meeting 
house.  This,  of  itself,  was  surprising.  Landover  had 
never  set  foot  inside  the  "  governor's  mansion."  While 
his  attitude  toward  the  "  governor's  lady  "  was  stud 
iedly  courteous,  he  made  no  effort  to  resume  the  inti 
mate  and  friendly  relationship  that  existed  before  her 
marriage  to  his  enemy.  Contact  with  Percival  was  un 
avoidable.  They  met  frequently  in  "  cabinet  "  confer 
ences,  but  avoided  each  other  at  all  other  times. 

He  came  to  this  hastily  called  meeting,  however,  and 
Percival  was  the  only  man  present  who  was  not  dumb 
founded.  Sheriff  Shay,  in  summoning  the  members 
to  this  secret  meeting,  had  delivered  a  message  that 
Landover  could  not  well  afford  to  ignore. 

Seventeen  men  were  crowded  into  the  little  sitting- 
room  of  the  house.  Each  one  of  them  bore  a  high- 


350  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

sounding  title.  There  were  present,  besides  Percival, 
State  Treasurer  Landover,  Chief  Justice  Malone,  Min 
ister  of  War  Platt,  Minister  of  Marine  Mott,  Minis 
ter  of  Agriculture  Pedro  Drom,  State  Clerk  Flattner, 
Surgeon  General  Cullen,  Lord  High  Sheriff  Shay,  and 
the  following  members  of  the  Executive  Council: 
Snipe,  Block,  Jones,  Fitts,  Knapendyke,  Calkins,  Ruiz 
and  Alvara.  Ruiz  was  a  Chilean  merchant  and  Alvara 
a  Brazilian  coffee  grower.  Calkins  was  an  English 
cattle  buyer. 

Percival,  with  his  customary  abruptness,  announced 
that  there  was  a  plot  on  foot  to  destroy  the  present 
government  and  turn  the  island  over  to  the  mercy  of 
a  gang  of  desperadoes  headed  by  Manuel  Crust. 

Landover  was  on  his  feet  in  an  instant. 

"  I  am  in  a  position,  gentlemen,  to  declare  that  there 
is  not  a  word  of  truth  in  that  statement.  It  is  true 
there  is  a  very  definite  movement  on  foot  to  organize 
a  new  party  to  contest  the  election  of  many  of  us  who 
are  gathered  here  tonight.  The  people  want  a  change. 
They  are  dissatisfied.  They  have  a  right  to  vote  as 
they  please,  to  choose  their  own — " 

"  We  are  not  here  to  discuss  the  election,  Mr.  Land- 
over,"  broke  in  Percival.  "  Before  'we  go  any  farther, 
however,  I  wish  to  state  that  if  you  are  chosen  Gov 
ernor  of  Trigger  Island,  you  will  find  no  one  more  will 
ing  and  ready  to  serve  you  than  I.  But,  that  is  be 
side  the  question.  If  you  will  listen  to  me,  I  will  tell 
you  exactly  what  it  is  that  confronts  us.  The  election 
next  month  is  to  be  the  signal  for  all  kinds  of  hell. 
You  may  be  elected  governor,  Mr.  Landover, —  but  you 
will  not  be  allowed  to  serve.  Now,  here  is  the  story 
that  came  to  me  today, —  and  I  can  vouch  for  it.  I 
am  authorized, —  in  fact  I  am  commanded  to  reveal  to 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  351 

you  the  name  of  my  informant.  You  may  be  sure  I 
did  my  best  to  prevail  upon  her  to  remain  unknown, 
for  the  present,  at  least,  but  she  threatened  to  go  forth 
and  shout  her  story  from  the  housetops  if  I  did  not 
do  as  she  wished." 

The  conference  ended  an  hour  later,  and  Abel  Land- 
over  had  shown  his  true  colours  at  last.  He  stood  up, 
his  face  drawn  and  haggard,  his  eyes  ablaze,  his  voice 
husky,  and  addressed  the  group. 

"  Gentlemen,  I  have  been  wrong.  I  am  grateful  to 
Mr.  Percival  for  his  generosity  in  warning  me  of  the 
danger  into  which  I  was  rushing.  We  have  not  been 
friends.  He  could  have  left  i:ie  to  my  fate.  I  would 
not  have  blamed  him.  He  has  played  fair, —  and  I 
have  not.  I  ask  you  all  to  bear  witness  to  that  hu 
miliating  admission.  I  have  argued  here  tonight 
against  all  of  you, —  when  down  in  my  heart  I  had  the 
sickening  fear  that  this  damnable  story  is  true.  I  now 
believe  it  to  be  true.  I  now  see  through  the  whole 
devilish  game. 

"  I  give  you  my  word  of  honour  as  a  gentleman  and 
an  American,  I  did  not  realize  the  true  conditions  un 
til  tonight.  Perhaps  I  might  have  found  out  in  time 
to  upset  their  plans, —  but  that  is  doubtful.  These 
men  are  smart.  They  are  natural  born  plotters. 
They  are  dark  men  with  dark  souls.  This  fellow  Fer 
nandez  has  fooled  me  completely.  He  is  a  gay,  smiling 
boy,  but  now  that  I  have  heard  Madame  Obosky's  ac 
count  of  him,  I  recall  many  little  traits  in  his  make-up 
that  go  far  to  substantiate  my  new  opinion  of  him. 
I  never  quite  understood  till  now  why  he  hated  you, 
Percival.  Frankly,  I  knew  that  he  had  it  in  his  heart 
to  kill  you.  Crust  has  told  me  of  his  difficulty  in  keep 
ing  him  from  running  a  knife  into  you.  I  thought  it 


352  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

was   all  talk,  boyish  bravado, —  but  now  I  know  he 
meant  it." 

He  lifted  his  head  and  set  his  jaw.  "Gentlemen,  I 
have  a  shameful  confession  to  make.  Ever  since  I  can 
remember,  my  sole  thought  has  been  to  rule.  I  did  not 
know  what  it  was  to  take  orders  from  another  man 
until  I  came  to  this  island.  My  whole  being  has  been 
in  revolt.  The  thought  uppermost  in  my  mind  for  two 
years  has  been  to  re-establish  myself  as  a  dominating 
force.  To  that  end,  I  have  played  pretty  bad  politics. 
I  have  worked  upon  the  credulity  and  cupidity  of  these 
men,  promising  them  positions  of  authority  if  I  were 
chosen  by  vote  to  govern  the  affairs  of  this  island. 
But,  I  am  sure  you  all  will  believe  me  when  I  say  that 
it  was  my  purpose  to  administer  those  affairs  honestly, 
fairly  and  as  capably  as  I  knew  how.  I  was  not  only 
deceived  by  these  men,  but  by  myself  as  well.  I  have 
played,  like  a  blundering  fool,  into  their  hands.  My 
chagrin  is  beyond  words.  I  can  only  say  to  you  now 
that  you  may  count  upon  my  unfailing  support  in  any 
action  you  may  decide  to  take.  My  forebears  were 
honest,  loyal,  law-abiding  Americans.  I  —  I  think  I 
may  say  without  fear  of  contradiction  that  it  is  impos 
sible  for  me  to  run  otherwise  than  true  to  form. 

"  I  lied,  Percival,  to  Ruth  Clinton  about  the  en 
counter  in  my  stateroom  on  the  Doraine.  Believe  me 
or  not  as  you  see  fit,  but  I  think  that  was  the  only  de 
liberate  lie  I  have  ever  told  in  my  life.  I  have  done  a 
great  many  high-handed  things,  I  have  been  inconsid 
erate  of  others,  I  have  crushed  opposition  in  my  own 
way,  I  have  never  allowed  myself  to  acknowledge  defeat. 
My  hand  has  been  against  you  since  the  day  you  ap 
peared  on  the  decks  of  the  Doraine.  It  was  not  in  my 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  353 

nature  to  see  good  in  you.  To  me,  you  were  a  good- 
for-nothing  —  Well,  I'm  glad  to  see  you  smile !  That 
is  the  devil  with  you, —  your  confounded  smile.  I  ask 
you  to  overlook  what  I  have  said,  and  done  —  and  been, 
Percival, —  and  shake  hands.  You  have  nothing  to 
apologize  for.  There  never  has  been  a  time  in  all  these 
months  that  I  have  not  felt  you  to  be  a  real  man,  an 
honest  one,  and  a  gentleman.  I  think  I  know  an  honest 
man  when  I  see  one, —  indeed,  it  is  my  business  to  read 
men, —  and  I  rarely  make  a  mistake." 

As  the  two  men  shook  hands,  Randolph  Fitts  re 
marked  drily : 

"  Seems  to  me  I  remember  your  saying  something  of 
the  sort  the  first  day  you  ever  laid  eyes  on  A.  A.,  Abel." 

"  The  trouble  is,"  put  in  Soapy  Shay  sarcastically, 
"  you  don't  know  a  dishonest  one  when  you  see  him, 
Bill." 

"  Veil,  let's  get  down  to  business,"  said  Moses  Block 
nervously.  "  Ve  must  go  slow  and  careful-like.  If  ve 
show  our  hands  too  soon,  they  will  uprise  and  —  veil, 
I  don't  know  vat !  " 

"  Mr.  Mott,  what  would  you  do  if  you  got  wind  of  a 
plot  like  this  aboard  ship  ?  "  inquired  Percival,  his  eyes 
narrowing. 

"  I  would  have  the  whole  gang  in  chains  before  morn 
ing.  Then  I'd  give  'em  a  taste  of  the  *  cat '  at  day 
break,  and  before  noon  I'd  have  the  ringleaders  hang 
ing  from  a  yard-arm,"  said  Andrew  Mott,  succinctly. 

"  Oh,  my  gracious  1 "  gulped  Mr.  Block. 

"  Now,  I'll  tell  you  what  would  happen  up  in  Copper 
head  Camp,"  said  Percival,  darkly.  "  They  would  get 
a  beautiful  cow-hiding  and  then  sentenced  to  wear  a 
ball  and  chain,  day  and  night,  for  anywhere  from  six 


354  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

months  to  two  years, —  depending  largely  on  the  proc 
ess  of  regeneration.  My  experience  has  been  that  six 
months  is  enough." 

"We  wouldn't  dare  do  that,  A.  A.,"  said  Fitts. 
"  You  must  not  forget  public  sentiment, —  and  public 
pity.  I've  got  a  better  plan.  How  far  out  is  that 
little  island  off  New  Gibraltar,  Platt?  " 

"  A  quarter  of  a  mile,  I  should  say." 

"  Well,  if  they're  not  satisfied  with  life  and  condi 
tions  here,  let's  make  'em  a  present  of  a  nice  little 
island  of  their  own.  That's  what  I've  always  advo 
cated  as  the  proper  way  to  treat  anarchists.  Stick 
'em  away  on  an  island  completely  surrounded  by  sharks 
and  let  'em  run  it  to  suit  themselves." 

"  But  there  are  no  sharks  in  these  waters,"  said 
Flattner.  "  They'd  swim  over  here  some  night  and  slit 
all  our  throats." 

"  Not  a  chance.  They  hate  water  too  much  to  have 
ever  learned  how  to  swim.  Now,  here's  the  scheme. 
Round  up  as  many  of  them  as  we're  dead  sure  about, 
row  'em  out  to  the  island,  dump  'em  with  enough  food 
and  water  to  last  a  week,  supply  them  with  tents  and 
beds  and  tools,  and  let  'em  build  their  own  peniten 
tiary.  They'll  have  to  do  it  or  freeze  next  winter. 
Once  a  week  send  food  and  drink  out  to  them.  The 
water  is  a  hundred  fathoms  deep  between  Trigger  Is 
land  and  that  little  green  wart  out  there  on  the  face  of 
the  ocean.  It  will  look  like  a  million  miles  to  them. 
How  does  it  strike  you,  gentlemen?  " 

Off  the  precipitous  western  extremity  of  Trigger 
Island  lies  a  tiny  scrap  of  tree-covered  land.  It  is 
perhaps  one  hundred  yards  wide  and  thrice  as  long. 
An  exploring  party  had  visited  it  shortly  after  the 
wreck  of  the  Doraine,  but  since  then  no  one  had  set 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  355 

foot  upon  its  shores.  Its  steep  slopes,  densely  wooded, 
viewed  from  afar,  suggested  a  mountain  top  sticking 
up  out  of  the  sea.  By  boat,  skirting  the  coast,  it  was 
a  good  ten  miles  distant  from  the  town. 

Three  men  were  seized  that  night  and  put  through  a 
rigid  examination.  Early  the  next  morning  twelve 
more  were  taken,  Manuel  Crust  among  them.  Half  of 
them,  in  their  terror,  "  squealed."  Crust  himself  was 
one  of  these.  Almost  before  the  people  of  the  town 
knew  what  was  afoot,  the  fifteen  had  been  tried,  con 
victed,  and  were  on  their  way  to  the  landing  where  boats 
were  waiting  to  take  them  and  their  belongings  off 
into  exile.  As  for  the  conspirators  themselves,  the  blow 
was  so  swift,  so  sudden,  that  they  were  dazed.  It  was 
like  a  bolt  out  of  a  clear  sky. 

Judge  Malone  sent  them  to  "  the  Island  "  for  inde 
terminate  periods.  At  stated  intervals  they  were  to 
be  released,  one  by  one,  and  restored  to  citizenship. 
The  shortest  term  of  exile,  however,  was  one  year. 
The  releases  were  to  be  decided  by  lot,  except  in  the 
case  of  three  men :  Crust,  Fernandez  and  an  Irish  sailor 
named  Clark.  They  were  the  ringleaders  and  they 
were  to  remain  on  "  the  Island  "  until  the  time  came 
for  them  to  go  aboard  the  relief  ship  with  all  the  other 
citizens  of  Trigger.  At  the  end  of  the  first  year,  and 
once  a  month  thereafter  for  twelve  months,  drawings 
were  to  be  held,  and  the  man  whose  name  was  drawn 
would  be  released. 

"  You  are  prisoners  of  state,"  said  Judge  Malone, 
in  passing  sentence.  "  The  state  is  obliged  to  feed 
you,  and  clothe  you,  and  sustain  you  if  you  fall  ill, 
no  matter  how  bitterly  it  goes  against  the  grain.  You 
will  not  be  obliged  to  work,  or  wash,  or  observe  a  single 
law.  You  may  rob  each  other  to  your  hearts'  content. 


356  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

you  may  murder  each  other  with  perfect  impunity,  you 
may  do  just  as  you  like.  We  started  out  to  conduct 
the  affairs  of  this  island  along  lines  laid  down  by  the 
Golden  Rule.  I  have  come  to  the  conclusion  that  the 
Golden  Rule  would  be  all  right  if  it  were  not  for  the 
human  race.  I  am  beginning  to  believe  that  the  Rule 
of  Iron  is  the  only  one  for  the  people  of  this  earth  to 
live  under, —  and  that  is  a  pretty  hard  thing  for  an 
Irishman  to  say.  You  men  ought  to  be  lined  up  against 
a  wall  and  shot.  We  do  not  feel  that  we  have  the  right 
to  take  your  lives.  It  is  not  in  our  hearts  to  destroy 
you,  as  you  would  have  destroyed  us.  But  you  may 
not  dwell  among  us." 

Fernandez,  wild  with  fury,  shrieked  vengeance  upon 
the  head  of  Olga  Obosky.  Out  of  his  ravings,  the  un 
savoury  crew  gleaned  enough  to  convince  them  that  he 
was  responsible  for  their  present  unhappy  plight. 

"  You  will  pay  for  this,  you  snake ! "  he  yelled, 
foaming  at  the  mouth  and  shaking  his  fist  at  her.  "  I 
will  drink  your  heart's  blood !  Remember  what  Joe 
Fernandez  says.  I  will  come  back  here  and  get  you,- — 
Oh,  I  will  get  you, —  and  when  I  am  through  with  you 
your  dog  of  a  lover  may  have  what  is  left.  I  will  cut 
you  to  pieces !  I  swear  it  —  I  swear  it !  Hear  my 
oath !  You  double-crossed  me !  You  squealed  on  me ! 
I  will  come  back,  and  I  will  drink  your  heart's  blood ! 
I  swear  it !  " 

He  spat  in  her  direction  as  he  was  dragged  away  with 
the  rest  of  the  gang.  Through  his  glittering,  blood 
shot  eyes  he  saw  the  cool,  derisive  sneer  on  her  red 
lips.  He  had  failed,  however,  to  note  the  keen,  ap 
praising  look  with  which  she  searched  the  faces  of  his 
baffled,  glowering  companions.  In  that  long,  tense  look 
she  had  seen  dawning  comprehension  change  to  convic- 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  357 

tion ;  she  had  read  his  doom,  so  she  could,  in  perfect  se 
curity,  give  him  that  scoffing,  heartless  smile  to  take 
with  him  on  the  journey  from  which  he  was  never  to 
return. 

Fifteen  men  went  out  to  "  the  Island  "  that  after 
noon.  From  that  day,  the  authorities  provided  weekly 
rations  for  that  number  of  men.  To  this  day  they  are 
ignorant  of  the  fact  that  there  are  but  fourteen  mouths 
to  feed. 


CHAPTER  IV 

IN  the  cool  of  a  balmy  January  evening,  following 
what  had  been  the  hottest  day  the  castaways  had 
experienced  since  coming  to  Trigger  Island,  a 
group  of  men  and  women  sat  upon  the  Governor's 
porch.  There  was  no  moon,  but  the  sky  was  speckled 
with  millions  of  stars. 

Olga  Obosky,  sitting  on  the  squared  log  that  served 
as  a  step,  leaned  back  against  the  awning  post,  her  legs 
stretched  out  in  luxurious  abandon.  She  was  fanning 
herself,  and  her  breath  came  rapidly,  pantingly.  Now 
and  then  she  patted  her  moist  face  with  a  handkerchief. 

"  How  warm  you  are,  Olga,"  said  Ruth,  who  sat 
beside  her.  "  And  you  must  be  dreadfully  tired." 

"  I  am  hot,  but  I  am  not  tired,"  replied  the  other. 
"  I  could  dance  all  night,  my  dear,  without  tiring.  Did 
you  really  like  the  children,  Ruth?" 

"  They  were  lovely.  You  have  done  wonders  with 
them." 

"  Regular  Isadora  Duncan  stuff,"  sighed  Peter  Snipe, 
drawing  lazily  at  his  pipe.  "  Woodland  nymphs, 
phantom  pixies  floating  on  the  wind,  zephyrs  in  the 
guise  of  fairies,  dreams  come  true, —  my  dear  Olga,  you 
are  a  sorceress.  You  change  clods  into  moonbeams, 
you  turn  human  beings  into  vapours,  you  cast  the  man 
tle  of  enchantment  over  the  midsummer  night,  and  we 
see  Oberon,  Titania  and  all  the  rest  of  them  disporting 
on  the  breeze.  And  to  think  that  only  this  afternoon 
I  saw  all  of  those  gawky  girls  working  in  the  fields, 
their  legs  the  colour  of  tan  bark,  with  sandals  that 

358 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

looked  like  canal-boats,  skirts  made  of  hemp, —  just 
regular  kids.  And  you  transform  them  tonight  into- 
gleaming  cloudlets  to  float  upon  the  ambient  atmos 
phere  — " 

"  For  heaven's  sake,  Pete,  stop  being  an  author  and 
talk  like  a  real  man,"  interrupted  Fitts.  "  Can't  you 
say,  '  Gee,  they  was  great,  Olger  '?  " 

It  was  "  Twelfth  Night,"  and  Olga's  pupils  had  given? 
a  fairy  dance  on  the  Green.  To  conclude  the  almost 
mystic  entertainment,  the  great  Obosky  herself  had 
appeared  in  one  of  her  most  marvellous  creations, — 
the  "  Dance  of  the  Caliph's  Dream," —  the  sensational, 
never-to-be-forgotten  dance  that  had  been  the  talk  of 
three  continents.  There  was  no  spotlight  to  follow  her 
sinuous,  scantily  clad  figure  as  it  spun  and  leaped  and 
glided  about  the  dim,  starlit  Green ;  there  was  no  blare 
of  brass  and  cymbals,  nor  the  haunting  wail  of  flageo 
lets, —  only  the  tinkle  of  mandolins  and  Spanish  guitars 
to  guide  her  bewildering  feet, —  and  yet  she  had  never 
been  so  alluring. 

When  it  was  all  over, —  when  the  charmed  circle  of 
faces  had  vanished  into  the  byways  of  the  night, — 
she  came  and  flung  herself  down  upon  the  steps  of  the 
Governor's  mansion.  She  had  wrapped  her  warm  body 
in  a  sheath  of  yellow  velvet;  the  tips  of  her  bare  feet 
were  exposed  to  the  grateful  night  air.  Her  uplifted 
eyes  shone  like  the  stars  that  looked  down  into  them; 
her  lips  were  parted  in  a  smile ;  her  flesh  quivered  with 
the  physical  ecstasy  that  comes  only  with  supreme  lassi 
tude. 

"  You  never  danced  so  beautifully  in  your  life,  Olga," 
said  Careni-Amori.  "  And  after  two  years,  too.  I 
cannot  understand.  I  shall  never  sing  again  as  I  sang- 
two  years  ago.  But  you, —  ah,  you  dance  even  better. 


360  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

I  take  courage  from  you.  Perhaps  my  voice  has  not 
gone  to  seed  as  Joseppi's  has, —  poor  man.  Not  that 
it  had  very  far  to  go, —  but  still  it  was  second  only  to 
Caruso's,  and  that  is  something.  How  can  it  be  that 
you  improve  with  idleness,  while  I  —  while  we  go  the 
other  way  ?  " 

"  I  shall  never  dance  like  zat  again,"  replied  Olga, 
her  eyes  clouding. 

"You  speak  as  if  it  were  your  swan  dance,"  cried 
Michael  Malone. 

"  Oh,  I  shall  dance  for  ever,"  said  she,  "  but  never 
again  like  zat.  You  would  ask  why  not.  I  cannot 
tell  you.  I  do  not  know.  Only  can  I  say  I  shall 
never  dance  like  zat  again,- —  never." 

Ruth  turned  her  head  quickly  to  look  at  the  woman 
beside  her.  Olga's  face  gleamed  white  in  the  starlight. 
Her  eyes  were  still  searching  the  speckled  dome,  and 
the  smile  had  left  her  lips. 

"  Don't  say  that,  Olga,"  she  whispered  softly. 
"  You  will  delight  great  audiences  again, —  you  will 
charm  — " 

"  Possibly,"  interrupted  the  other,  lowering  her  voice, 
turning  her  eyes  upon  Ruth,  and  smiling  mysteriously. 
"  Great  audiences,  yes, —  but  what  are  they  ?  I  ap 
peared  tonight  before  an  audience  of  one.  I  danced 
as  I  have  never  danced  before, —  all  for  zat  audience 
of  one.  Your  husband,  my  dear.  He  one  time  in 
forms  me  he  has  never  seen  me  dance.  Well, —  tonight 
I  dance  for  him.  Now,  he  can  say  he  have  seen  Obosky 
dance.  He  will  never  forget  zat  he  have  seen  Obosky 
dance." 

Ruth  laughed,  but  it  was  a  strained  effort.  "  He 
was  positively  enchanted,  Olga,"  she  said.  Then  she 
added :  "  But  for  goodness'  sake,  don't  ever  let  him 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  361 

know  that  you  did  it  all  for  him.  He  will  be  so  proud 
and  important  that  — " 

"  Oh,  he  knows  I  danced  for  him,5'  broke  in  the  Rus 
sian  calmly,  in  a  most  matter-of-fact  tone. 

"You  — you  told  him?" 

"  I  did  not  have  to  tell  him.  He  knew,  without  be 
ing  told.  La  la,  my  dear!  Do  not  look  so  shocked. 
It  is  a  habit  I  have.  Always  I  dance  for  one  person 
in  my  audience.  I  pick  him  out, —  sometimes  it  is  a 
she, —  and  zen  I  try  only  to  please  zat  one  person.  I 
make  him  to  feel  he  is  the  one  I  am  dancing  for,  zat 
he  is  all  alone  in  the  great  big  hall, —  all  alone  with 
me.  Maybe  he  is  in  the  gallery,  looking  down ;  maybe 
he  is  in  a  box,  or  standing  up  at  the  -back  of  the  house, 

—  no  matter  where  he  is,  I  pick  him  out  and  so  I  think 
of  no  one  else  all  ze  time  I  dance." 

"  And,  by  the  same  token,  he  is  powerless  to  think  of 
any  one  else.  I  see.  No  wonder  you  charm  them  out 
of  their  boots." 

"  And  all  the  rest  of  his  life  he  will  remember  that  I 
danced  for  him  alone,  zat  man.  As  for  me, —  poof  1 
I  would  not  recognize  him  again  if  he  came  to  see  me 
a  thousand  nights  in  succession.  Once  I  saw  a  very 
tiny  boy  in  the  stalls.  He  was  with  his  mother  and 
father.  I  danced  for  zat  child  of  six.  When  he  is 
a  very,  very  old  man  he  will  look  back  over  the  years 
and  see  me  dancing  still, —  always  the  same  whirling, 
dazzling  thing  that  filled  his  little  eyes  and  soul  with 
wonder.  So !  Percivail  has  seen  me  at  my  best.  He 
will  tell  his  grandchildren  how  wonderful  Obosky  was, 

—  and  he  will  think  of  her  to  his  dying  day  as  some 
thing  beautiful,  not  something  vile." 

"  Oh,  Olga  1 " 

"  You  see,  my  dear,"  said  the  other,  composedly,  "  I 


S62  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

wanted  to  make  a  good  impression  on  zat  virtuous  hus 
band  of  yours.  Now  he  will  think  of  me  as  the  artist, 
not  as  the  woman.  It  is  much  better  so,  is  it  not  ?  " 

"  Sometimes  you  say  things  that  cause  me  to  wonder 
why  I  don't  hate  you,  Olga  Obosky,"  cried  Ruth  under 
her  breath. 

Olga  laughed  softly.  "  I  repeat  zat  Golden  Rule  to 
myself  every  night  and  every  morning,  Ruthkin,"  said 
she,  somewhat  cryptically.  Then  they  were  silent. 

Conversation  on  the  porch  behind  them  lagged  and 
finally  ceased  altogether.  The  soft  swish  of  fans  was 
the  only  sound  to  disturb  the  tranquil  stillness. 

"  Nineteen-twenty,"  fell  dreamily  from  the  lips  of 
Randolph  Fitts's  wife.  "  I  used  to  think  of  Nineteen- 
twenty  as  being  so  far  in  the  future  that  I  would  be 
an  old,  old  woman  when  I  came  to  it.  And  here  it  is, 
• —  I  am  living  in  it, —  and  I  am  not  old." 

"Presidential  year,"  said  Michael  Malone,  as  he 
struck  a  match  to  relight  the  pipe  that  had  gone  out. 
"  Doesn't  take  them  long  to  slip  around,  does  it  ? 
Seems  only  last  week  that  I  voted  for  Wilson.  I  won 
der  if  he'll  be  running -again." 

"  Sure !  And  if  he  can  keep  us  .in  the  war  as  long  as 
he  kept  us  out  of  it,"  said  Peter  Snipe,  "  we'll  have  to 
elect  him  again." 

"  I'd  give  a  lot  to  know  whether  we've  got  the  Ger 
mans  licked  or  not,"  mused  Fitts.  "  We've  had  nearly 
three  years  to  do  it  in." 

"  Depends  entirely  on  the  navy,"  said  Platt,  Minister 
of  Marine,  late  of  the  U.  S.  Navy. 

"What  can  the  navy  do  if  the  Germans  will  not 
come  out  ?  "  demanded  Landover. 

"  Why,  confound  it  all,  the  navy  can  go  in,  can't 
it?" 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

"The  British  Navy  hasn't,"  was  Landover's  reply. 

"  What's  the  use  of  speculating  about  the  war  ?  "  said 
Percival,  as  he  threw  himself  on  the  grass  at  Ruth's 
feet.  "  Either  it's  over  or  it  isn't,  and  here  we  sit 
absolutely  in  the  dark.  They  might  as  well  be  fighting 
on  Mars  as  over  in  Europe,  so  far  as  we  are  concerned. 
For  God's  sake,  let's  not  even  think  about  the  war. 
We'll  all  go  crazy  if  we  do." 

"  You're  right,"  said  Fitts,  gloomily. 

"  In  any  case,"  said  Malone,  "  Trigger  Island  has 
done  all  that  any  self-respecting  government  can  do. 
She  has  declared  war  on  Germany.  We  have  nothing 
to  be  ashamed  of.  Still,  I'd  feel  better  if  we  could 
fire  a  few  shots  at  the  dirty  blackguards." 

"  The  war  is  over,"  said  Olga,  staring  up  at  the 
stars.  "  The  -Germans  are  beaten.  I  have  said  so  for 
many  months,  have  I  not  ?  " 

"  You  have,"  agreed  Malone.  "  But  I  don't  see  that 
you  have  anything  on  the  Kaiser.  He  said  it  was  over 
in  191V 

"'Don't  argue  with  him,  Olga,"  said  young  Mrs.  Ma 
lone.  "  He's  Irish." 

"  Like  all  Irishers  he's  longing  for  something  he'll 
never  get,"  said  Fitts,  drily. 

"  And  what  is  that  ?  "  inquired  Mrs.  Malone. 

"  Home-rule,"  said  Fitts. 

Olga  Obosky  yawned  luxuriously.  "  I  am  so 
sleepy.  My  sandals,  Governor  Percivail.  I  am  going 
home." 

He  picked  up  the  sandals  lying  on  the  grass  beside 
him  and  held  them  out  to  her.  She  coolly  extended  one 
of  her  feet. 

"  It  cannot  bite  you.  Put  zem  on  for  me,  your  Ex 
cellency." 


364  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

He  knelt  and,  slipping  the  sandals  on  one  after  the 
other,  fastened  the  straps  over  her  bare  insteps. 

"So,"  she  sighed.  "Thank  you.  Good  night, 
Ruthkin.  No !  I  shall  go  home  alone.  There  is  noth 
ing  to  be  afraid  of  now  on  zis  island,  my  dear.  The 
ardent  Fernandez  is  playing  —  what  you  call  it?  — 
pea-knuckles?  —  he  is  playing  pea-knuckles  away  off 
yonder  on  zat  prison  island,  as  he  has  been  playing  for 
nearly  a  year." 

Little  she  knew  of  Fernandez! 

Ruth  and  Percival  walked  around  the  corner  of  the 
porch  with  her,  out  of  sight  of  the  others. 

"  It  was  a  perfectly  ravishing  dance,  Olga,"  said  he. 
"  If  I  live  a  thousand  years  I  shall  never  forget  how 
beautiful  it  was." 

"  You  see?  "  cried  Olga  softly,  pressing  Ruth's  hand. 
"Was  I  not  rigM?" 

"Men  are  very  queer  things,"  said  Ruth,  with  a 
curious  sidelong  glance  at  her  husband.  Then  she 
squeezed  his  arm  tightly  and  went  on  with  a  little  thrill 
in  her  voice :  "  Good  night,  Olga.  Thank  you  for  — 
the  lesson." 

"  What's  all  this?  "  inquired  Percival. 

"  Nothing  you  would  be  interested  in,  my  friend," 
said  Olga,  with  a  little  laugh.  She  waved  her  hand 
airily  as  she  moved  swiftly  away  in  the  gloom. 

They  watched  her  yellow  figure  fade  into  the  starlit 
shadows.  As  they  turned  to  rejoin  the  others,  Ruth 
said  : 

"  I  think  you  might  have  told  her  how  beautiful  she 
was,  dear."  So  much  for  the  native  perversity  of 
woman,  even  when  she  is  most  content. 

He  raised  her  hand  to  his  lips  and  pressed  a  kiss 
upon  the  soft,  warm  palm.  It  was  a  habit  of  his, — 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  365 

and  she  never  failed  to  shiver  in  response  to  the  ex 
quisite  thrill.  She  drew  a  deep  breath,  and  leaned  a 
little  closer  to  him, 

"  Look  up  yonder,  sweetheart,"  he  whispered.  "  Do 
you  see  the  one  star  in  all  the  heavens  that  shines  the 
brightest?  It  is  the  only  one  I  see  when  I  raise  my 
eyes.  The  big,  full  star  in  the  Southern  Cross.  The 
others  are  dim,  feeble  little  things  preening  themselves 
in  reflected  glory.  That  great,  beautiful  star  at  the 
foot  of  the  Cross  is  all  that  I  can  see.  It's  no  use  for 
me  to  look  elsewhere.  That  star  fills  my  vision.  Its 
splendour  fascinates  me." 

She  waited  for  him  to  go  on.  Her  eyes  were  shining. 
But  the  analogy  was  complete.  She  laid  her  cheek 
against  his  and  sighed  tremulously.  After  a  moment, 
they  turned  their  heads  and  their  lips  met  in  a  long, 
passionate  kiss. 

"  I  should  be  content  to  stay  on  this  dear  little 
island  for  ever,  sweetheart,"  she  murmured.  "  My 
whole  world  is  here." 

He  stroked  her  hair  lovingly,  and  was  silent  for  a 
long  time.  Then  he  smiled  his  whimsical  smile. 

"  It's  all  right  for  you  and  me,  dear, —  but  how 
about  the  future  President  of  the  United  States  sleep 
ing  up  there  in  his  crib  ?  " 

She  smiled  up  into  his  eyes.  "  It's  a  nuisance,  isn't 
it  ?  —  having  to  stop  and  consider  that  we  are  parents 
as  well  as  lovers." 

They  rejoined  the  group  on  the  porch. 

"  I  had  a  horrible  dream  last  night,"  said  Peter 
Snipe,  getting  up  and  stretching  himself.  "  That's 
whv  I'm  staying  up  so  late  tonight.  I  hate  to  go  to 
bed." 

"What  was  your  dream,  Peter?"  asked  Ruth. 


366  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

"  Do  you  believe  in  'em?  " 

"  Only  in  day-dreams." 

"  Well,  I  dreamed  our  little  old  ship  was  finished  and 
had  sailed  at  last  and  for  once  our  wireless  plant  up 
there  began  to  get  messages  from  the  sea.  I  dreamed 
I  was  sitting  up  there  with  the  operator.  It  was  a 
dark,  stormy  night.  The  wireless  began  to  crackle. 
He  jumped  up  to  see  what  was  coming.  He  was  get 
ting  messages  from  our  own  ship,  away  out  there  on 
the  ocean.  She  was  calling  for  help.  '  Sinking  fast, — 
sinking  fast, —  sinking  fast.'  Over  and  over  again, — 
just  those  two  words.  'Gad, —  it  was  so  real,  so  ter 
ribly  real,  that  the  first  thing  I  did  this  morning  was 
to  walk  down  to  see  if  the  boat  was  still  on  the  stocks. 
She  was  there,  a  long  way  from  being  finished,  and  — 
and,  by  gad,  I  had  hard  work  to  keep  from  blubbering, 
I  was  so  relieved." 

"  It  will  take  more  than  a  dream  to  knock  that  ship 
to  pieces,"  said  Percival.  "  When  she's  ready  for  the 
water,  there  will  not  be  a  sturdier  craft  afloat.  An 
drew  Mott  says  she'll  weather  anything  outside  of  the 
China  Sea.  Don't  look  so  distressed,  Amy.  Pete's  a 
novelist.  They  never  do  anything  but  dream  horrible 
dreams.  Generally  they  go  so  far  as  to  put  them  into 
print,  and  people  read  'em  and  say  they  are  wildly 
improbable, —  especially  if  they  have  a  happy  ending. 
It's  always  the  happy  ending  that  makes  them  improb 
able, —  but  popular.  Isn't  that  so,  Pete?  " 

"  If  we  didn't  give  them  a  happy  ending,  they  would 
refuse  to  recognize  us  the  next  time  they  saw  us  on  a 
bookseller's  counter,"  said  Peter.  "  Well,  I  guess  I'll 
be  on  my  way.  I've  got  a  busy  day  tomorrow,  setting 
up  the  Trigger  Island  Pioneer, —  and  as  I  belong  to 


WEST  WIND  DRIFT  S6T 

that  almost  extinct  species  known  as  the  bachelor,  I 
am  forced  to  be  my  own  alarm  clock.  Going  my  way, 
Abel?  " 

"  Good  night,  Ruth,"  said  Landover.  "  Give  the 
Lieutenant  Governor  a  good  smack  for  me, —  and  tell 
him  he  is  still  in  my  will." 

"  Umph !  "  grunted  Fitts.  "  I'd  like  to  know  what 
you've  got  to  leave  the  little  beggar.  Your  letter  of 
credit?  " 

"  Certainly  not,"  replied  Landover.  "  Something 
worth  while,  Fittsy,  my  boy.  I  am  making  it  now. 
It's  going  to  be  a  hobby-horse,  if  I  live  long  enough  to 
finish  it.  Good  night,  Perce.  'Night,  everybody." 

When  the  last  of  the  company  had  departed,  Ruth 
and  Percival  stood  for  a  long  time  in  silence,  listening 
to  the  far-off  thrumming  of  a  Spanish  guitar,  their 
tranquil  gaze  fixed  on  the  murky  shadow  that  marked 
the  line  of  trees  along  the  shore,  her  head  resting  lightly 
against  his  shoulder,  his  arm  about  her  waist. 

"  What  are  you  thinking  of,  dear?  "  she  asked  at 
last. 

"  Peter's  dream,"  he  replied.  "  It  has  put  an  idea 
into  my  head.  The  day  that  ship  down  there  sails 
out  to  sea  with  her  courageous  little  crew,  I  shall  start 
laying  the  keel  for  another  just  like  her." 

Neither  spoke  for  many  seconds.  Then  she  said,  a 
deep,  solemn  note  in  her  voice :  "  I  understand,  Perce." 

They  went  into  the  house.  Later  they  stole  tiptoe 
to  the  side  of  the  crib  where  slept  the  sturdy,  sun- 
kissed  babe.  The  two  middle  fingers  of  a  chubby  hand 
were  in  his  mouth.  With  one  hand  Percival  shaded  the 
pitch  candle  he  had  brought  from  the  kitchen.  She 
leaned  over  and  gently  touched  the  smooth,  warm  cheek. 


368  WEST  WIND  DRIFT 

"I  —  I  can't  believe  he  is  real,  Perce,"  she  whis 
pered. 

"  He  isn't,"  whispered  he.  "  He  is  something  out  of 
a  fairy  story.  Nothing  as  wonderful  as  he  is  can  pos 
sibly  be  real." 


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